Archive of Our Own ^beta

“It's all my fault anyway,” San mumbled, eyes hazy and cheeks rosy. “I knew what I was getting into when I agreed, but I didn't prepare myself for how much it would sting. I thought I could handle it, but I was wrong.”

San was sitting at the bar, hunched over the beer mats which were seeping alcohol into his shirt. San didn't seem to notice, sprawled out over the surface and with his head resting in his hand, propped up by his elbow. It kept on slipping off, a result of a mixture of sweat and his lack of strength in his inebriated state. But he always manages to catch himself last minute, and place his cheek back in his palm. His expression was absent, matching his tousled dark hair.

Even in the low light of the bar, Wooyoung saw how flushed he was. He'd had one beer, and practically crumbled before him. Wooyoung couldn't help but laugh, turning his head away in the hopes of hiding it. He didn't think he was very successful, but San wasn't the most vigilant right now, vision glazed and staring through the shelves of spirit bottles behind Wooyoung. San kept blinking, as if he was trying to keep himself awake, even as he rambled. Wooyoung hummed, nodding at him so that he'd continue to rant and get it all out of his system.

“I knew it was going to help him, and it was something I've always wanted anyway. But this really hurts. I should have thought about the aftermath before I jumped into bed with him.”

Wooyoung ignores the twinge in his chest to send San a sympathetic smile. The music from the bar was thumping in his ears, the beats swelling in his mind. The lights from the dance floor were luminous, flashing bright into his eyes. Most people in the bar were packed into the little square dance floor they had there, brushing into each other as they jumped to the music. Wooyoung was working behind the bar, where it was luckily a little quieter - although he couldn't say by how much. At least it was quiet enough to hear people when they ordered their drinks. Most of the time Wooyoung got it on the first try. San didn't seem to be minding anything going on. All he cared about was nursing his empty beer glass with one hand, and keeping his head up with the other. He was babbling about his latest love trials and wasn't paying much attention to his surroundings. He barely seemed to notice when Wooyoung stepped away to serve a couple of tipsy friends who approached the bar to order a couple of shots.

When Wooyoung stepped back over to his friend, San was still staring gormlessly at the spirit bottles behind Wooyoung. He snorted, and wiped the remnants of spilled beer across the wooden top of the bar. He dropped the tea towel in the washing pile and spun around to place the last few bottles back on the shelf behind him. He was grinning when he turned back to San, hoping it would mask the way his heart was still clenched in his chest. The other man blinked up at him, innocent face imploring Wooyoung to understand. “I heard that Dongpyo is with Jungsu now. I saw them in town today, they seem really happy.”

Wooyoung winced. “I’m so sorry, San. That must have really sucked.”

San huffed, whining into his palm, nuzzling his nose in the folds of this hand for a moment before resurfacing again. “Hm. Yeah. But I'm glad he's happy. He deserves it, with everything he has on his plate. It can't be easy, all that pressure. I'm glad he has someone who loves him as much as Jungsu does, and someone he loves back just as much.”

Wooyoung patted the top of his head, running his fingers through his silky locks. Seeing San so upset and downtrodden sent an ache through Wooyoung’s whole body. San was so sweet, so genuine. He only ever wanted him to have anything his heart desired. Personally, Wooyoung couldn't understand not loving San back, but perhaps he was a little biased in that regard. He'd developed a crush on San as soon as he'd met the other boy, which only grew into an almost debilitating love a bit too quickly. San had never looked back at Wooyoung that way, and he's long ago accepted that he never would. He'd made peace with it, just like San had to make peace with the fact that Dongpyo would never return his affections.

Wooyoung had been introduced to San by his best friend Yeosang. He'd known Yeosang since high school. He was the loud, extroverted friend to Yeosang’s quiet, studious nature. He did the talking for them, lest Yeosang get overwhelmed. When Yeosang found out he was a superhero, discovering his ability to fly when celebrating a perfect score on a recent maths test, Wooyoung encouraged him to sign up to a superhero agency and begin his training. While it put Yeosang’s long-term dream of being a mathematics professor on hold, he knew that Yeosang would much rather be helping people with his gifts. And of course, Wooyoung would follow him to the depths of the earth. Non-superheroes weren't technically supposed to know the identity of superhero individuals, but since Yeosang had told Wooyoung before entering an agency, exceptions were made on his behalf. During his training, Yeosang met the group of six other boys who were to become his team - which included Choi San.

Superheroes were advanced individuals with the ability to fly. They also had advanced speed and strength. Almost triple the amount that a standard human had. They protected their world from high threats. Nothing like the run-of-the-mill burglar, but crazed billionaires set to blow up half of their city for the fun of it, or other superheroes who had decided to use their gifts for hurt and pain rather than care and protection. Wooyoung knew how amazing Yeosang was from the beginning. Beautiful and smart, he was the perfect person to receive a gift like superpowers. He would always have used it to do good by people. But Yeosang was still the same person, still a little shy. And Wooyoung found himself yapping away to his teammates on his behalf like he'd always do in school. It was no wonder that he grew close to them quickly, and they soon became his closest friends as well. The only member of the team who distrusted him at first was San, who was wary of having a human so close to the team who knew every detail of their plans and identities. His coldness didn't last long, however, soon warming up to him and calling Wooyoung a close friend, too. San even burst into tears when he apologised for not being welcoming, pressing a bouquet of roses into Wooyoung’s chest as a make-up gift. From that day forward, it has been an understatement to say that Wooyoung was down bad.

After San, Yeosang and their team had been on the scene for a couple of years, they ran into another team who they grew pretty close with. This team included Park Dongpyo, the chosen one. While superheroes were only known to have super speed, strength, and flight, Dongpyo also had telekinesis. There was an old legend in Sector 1 that predicted that the superhero with the ability to move objects with their mind was to become the greatest hero of their time, defeating the mightiest threat their city has ever faced. Dongpyo has been training for this eventuality ever since he came into his powers, and Wooyoung did not envy the crushing, mounting pressure that this must weigh on his shoulders. But despite the heavy expectations he carried, Dongpyo was still sweet, soft-spoken and considerate. He volunteered with local charities, he also had two degrees and spoke four languages. He was also beautiful. Fairy-like, he was petite and slim, not a blemish to his face despite the notorious and increasing battles he fought to save lives. It was no wonder that San had quickly become infatuated with him - along with so many other people. Wooyoung had met him at a gathering of superheroes that he was invited to as Yeosang’s special guest. He immediately understood why loving Dongpyo was so easy. Everyone flocked to him like moths were attracted to the brightest flame.

San’s chances had been slim. Especially since Dongpyo’s chemistry with his teammate Kim Jungsu was unmatched. Wooyoung clocked that the two of them were pulled together like magnets the first day he met them. But for whatever reason, they were dancing around their feelings for one another. And San got caught in the cross-fire. Because one day, Dongpyo invited San for a one-night fling with him, exhausted from waiting for Jungsu. And San, blinded by puppy love, agreed to whatever Dongpyo suggested no matter how much it would hurt him. Dongpyo was gone when San woke up the next morning, and the next thing he heard - or saw - from him was that he and Jungsu were finally together. San had spilled every detail on a group hangout at Wooyoung’s flat. Wooyoung and the team had done all they could to comfort him, but San was still weepy even a week later. So much so that he'd turned up at the bar Wooyoung worked at to drink his troubles away, despite his low alcohol tolerance.

Wooyoung quickly filled a glass of plain water up for San, which he placed in front of him. “Drink this, you'll feel better for it. Trust me.”

San nodded obediently and picked up the glass, gulping the contents down in one. “Haa,” he sighed afterward, refreshed and hopefully a little more sober.

After he finished school, Wooyoung got a job in the Horizon bar instead of going into further education. He never had Yeosang’s intellect, so working from then on was always going to be his best option. It was the most renowned queer bar in Sector 1, and Wooyoung was honoured to work there as a bartender. He heard the most amazing and heartbreaking stories from people while working there, and it also gave him ample opportunity to chatter away to their patrons. Each of his friends have visited him there, out of their suits and interacting with the general public on their rare evenings off. After so long masked up with their brains attuned to nearby threats, he could only imagine how wild and dizzying it was for them to go out like regular young people. If Wooyoung could provide them just a couple of hours to relax and let go, a moment’s reprieve, he would be happy forever.

“Hey, San-ah,” Wooyoung spoke up, softly but confidently. “It hurts, I know it does, and maybe the pain won't ever go away. But it does get easier to bear. The worst of it will fade. And you can always come to me or any of the guys when you need to, okay?”

San nodded, droopy. “I know. Thanks, Wooyoung-ah. You're the best.”

His head dropped down to the bar with a smack, rattling the glass bottles and glasses Wooyoung had around him. San just moaned, eyes closed and body heavy. Wooyoung winced, knowing he was going to have to call one of the guys to come help him lift San out of there. He wasn't the one with super strength. He'd already chosen Seonghwa because he'd complain the least. Wooyoung left San there for the rest of his shift, allowing him some time to sleep his one beer off. Even when he was serving other customers, he made sure to glance back at San to make sure he was alright. Luckily, the wide-shouldered man was propped up on the bar pretty well, locked on and weighed down. He didn't slip off or wander out of the bar in a daze. When his shift had ended and the bar was closed, Wooyoung fetched his phone from the back room to call Seonghwa, only feeling a little bad that he was rousing him from slumber. This was for San, anyway.

Seonghwa arrived in a flash, and helped Wooyoung direct San back home, one of his arms flung over either of their shoulders. Honestly Wooyoung didn't need to be there. With super strength, Seonghwa could have easily lifted San on his own. Wooyoung figured he let him help out of courtesy. Whatever it was, neither of them mentioned it as they deposited San on his bed and threw a blanket over him. Wooyoung hugged Seonghwa goodbye and whispered his thanks into his ear before they parted, each making the trek back to their own flats. Seonghwa went to the flat he shared with his boyfriend Hongjoong, and Wooyoung to his single one-bed. He sighed, pulling his covers up to his chest and burying his face into his pillow.

*

The good thing about working evenings and nights at Horizon meant that Wooyoung had the majority of the day free. So when situations like this presented themselves, he was always available.

Wooyoung heard the first rapid knock at his door when he was replenishing his medicine cabinet. He realised he was getting low a few days ago, and this morning was the first opportunity he'd had to run to the pharmacy to pick up some more bandages and antiseptic wipes. He made it a priority to always have first aid supplies in. With who his best friends were, it was vital to think of every eventuality, no matter how morbid or distressing to consider. He first made the decision to have a constant stash of first aid supplies in his flat at the beginning of his friends’ superhero career. One night, he heard a crash outside his door and after he'd run over to see what the commotion was, he'd found Mingi sprawled over his doorstep. Once he'd gotten over the shock and panic, he'd helped his tall friend hobble inside to tend to his wounds with wet paper towels since he didn't even have a single plaster on him at the time. Mingi had fled the scene of a narrow victory over a superpowered villain trying to break into his ex-girlfriend's flat, and been severely beaten in the process. Wooyoung tended to Mingi as best as he could, running out in the early hours of the morning to pick up bandages and plasters and painkillers. But since that night, he made no excuses over having medical supplies in his flat at all times, in case any of his friends needed to run - or fly - to him for help again. He never wanted to feel as helpless as he had done that night.

He only let the person rap their knuckles against the thick plastic of his door a couple of times before he was bounding over to swing it open. He was greeted to the red, panting face of his neighbour. Mr Lee was leaning one hand against his doorframe, the other was clutching the hand of his young, five-year-old daughter Eunha protectively. The young girl looked up at her father with sparkly-eyed admiration, and it always made Wooyoung giddy and soft seeing them together. Mr Lee shot up when he registered Wooyoung in front of him, gaze desperate and imploring. He pulled Eunha close as he blinked over at Wooyoung. “Thank heavens you're in, Wooyoung-ah. I really need your help. Of course, if you have plans or are too busy, you don't need to worry. But I've been called into work at the last minute, and my parents aren't available to watch Eunha. I was wondering if you could take her for the day? I finish at 5.30, so I should be able to pick her up before you have to leave. Please don't worry if you can't, I can find somebody else, but as you are the closest, I figured I'd ask you first, and-”

“Mr Lee,” Wooyoung cut the rambling man off. “Go to work. You look like you're already late. Me and Eunha are going to have a grand day, aren't we?” He winked exaggeratedly down at the young girl, who giggled back at him, pulling away from her father's side to step closer to Wooyoung. He could see the gap in between her teeth when she smiled from where she'd already lost one of the baby teeth. When he pulled his eyes away from the young girl, her father was gaping at him.

“Are you really sure, Wooyoung-ah? I really can get someone else if-”

“Aren't you running late?” Wooyoung giggled at Mr Lee.

“I'll pay you this time, I swear. When I get back-”

“Don't think about it, Mr Lee. It's always a pleasure to watch Eunha, I'd never ask for anything for it. Now, come on, get going.”

Mr Lee finally seemed to realise that he wasn't going to win, and sighed. Wooyoung was smiling as he watched the realisation of the time finally descend on him, because he seemed to jolt before kneeling down to be level with his daughter. Eunha turned to wrap her small arms around his neck in a goodbye hug. “I'll see you later, sweetie, okay? You're going to stay with Wooyoung-ssi today, and I'll come to pick you up after work.”

“Okay, appa. Have a good day.”

Mr Lee kissed his daughter’s forehead before he detached himself and stood up. He lingered to watch her for one more second, and then managed a wave. Eunha stepped closer to Wooyoung now that her father was edging towards the stairs. Wooyoung bent down to lift her up so that she could cling to him and wave her father goodbye from a vantage point. She giggled again as she wrapped her legs around his ribs and her arms around his neck. Wooyoung held her secure with one hand as they both waved Mr Lee down the stairs. He called his final goodbyes behind him, a “thank you, again, Wooyoung-ah. I owe you” spilling from his lips before he’d disappeared.

Wooyoung turned his head to face Eunha, who was blinking up at him, wide-eyed. “So, what do you feel like doing today?”

“Colouring!”

“Huh? Colouring? We’ll need paper and pencils for that, won't we?”

“Yep. Do you not have any coloured pencils, Wooyoung-oppa? I thought everyone has those.”

“Ah, do they now?”

“It would be very silly if you didn't. How would you colour?”

“It would be quite impossible. Let's go and check my cupboards for coloured pencils and paper, just to make sure I'm not silly, hmm?”

“Yes!”

“Oh, what's that?” Wooyoung tilted his head at Eunha, humming and keeping his lips closed, prodding.

Eunha blushed, dropping her head down while simultaneously twirling one of her small fingers around a strand of Wooyoung’s long, dark hair. “Yes, please, Wooyoung-oppa. Thank you.”

Wooyoung giggled again. “Of course, Eunha-ssi. Let's go!”

Eunha cheered and giggled again as Wooyoung charged them back into his flat, clicking the door closed behind him. He made spaceship noises as he carried Eunha over to the cupboard below his TV in his living room. It's where he kept all of the kid-friendly supplies he owned for whenever Eunha came over. Soon enough, he was planting Eunha on his rug and she was pulling the tin his coloured pencils were in out, along with the plain notebook he kept with them. Before long, she had half the box scattered over the floor. Wooyoung sat across from her on the rug with a pillow propped up behind him, watching as she drew a portrait of herself and her father in mis-matching, fantastical colours. She squinted at the paper in concentration, and Wooyoung sucked in another laugh.

Over the past year, Wooyoung had been periodically helping Mr Lee look after Eunha when he had other commitments. His next door neighbour was a recent widower, and was still finding his way after the sudden loss of his partner. It was the least Wooyoung could do to offer all the help he could feasibly manage. And Eunha was a delight, anyway. He'd never mind taking care of her for the day.

When Eunha had gotten tired of colouring, Wooyoung stuck Beauty and the Beast on the TV. And when Eunha complained that she didn't like princess films anymore, he put The Incredibles on, which was much better. They sat curled up on the sofa together, Eunha tucked into Wooyoung’s arms. “I want to be a superhero,” Eunha whispered to him.

“But you already are, Eunha,” he whispered back. “To your appa.”

She smiled her gap-toothed smile back at him and settled down for the rest of the film. Wooyoung ran his fingers through her hair when it became loose, attempting to gather the unruly strands back into a ponytail. He realised it was futile soon enough, and gave up to let it hang down. After the film, he fashioned himself and Eunha a sandwich for lunch while she played with the dolls she'd left at his flat the last time she was there. The whole time, they babbled on to each other about the drama going on between two of her dolls.

“So let me get this right,” Wooyoung huffed. “Younghee is still upset that Hana didn't let her battle that shark all by herself?”

“No,” Eunha replied petulantly. “Younghee is upset because she knows Hana is right to be mad that she didn't include her when she wanted to fight the shark on her own. She didn't think about teamwork. And appa said that teamwork is really important.”

“Well, your appa is very smart, Eunha. Do you think the superheros that protect us work in teams for no reason? They need to because trying to save Sector 1 on your own would be a disaster.”

“Yep. That's right. But Younghee is just sulking at the minute because of her pride.”

They played with Eunha’s dolls for a little bit longer, with Wooyoung taking on the role of Hana while Eunha forced one of Wooyoung’s cushions to be the shark. He raised his voice higher to match Hana’s, and discovered new places to hide in his flat as Younghee and Hana searched the land for new threats. After some time, Eunha visibly wilted from tiredness, so Wooyoung figured some fresh air would probably do them both some good.

“How about we go for a walk, Eunha?” He laid out.

“Hmm, that would be good.” She was already beginning to doze off on his shoulder.

Wooyoung took her back over to his door so that he could pull her shoes and coat on. He ensured she was all zipped up before he put his own on. He checked his pockets for his phone and keys, and then they ventured out of his flat. Taking her down and out of the building, Wooyoung and Eunha walked down the street. Past various bakeries and quaint little antique shops they lived around, they both nattered on to each other about anything that came to mind. Wooyoung kept a firm hand around Eunha’s small one as he directed her along the pavement.

Somehow, they wound up at the local library. It was tucked inside a large, two story building. The outside was painted in vibrant colours. One wall had portraits of classic children's characters which ran alongside the children's book section inside. The rest had flowers and vines crawling up the walls. Pondering that it was a good place to warm up, Wooyoung steered Eunha inside. They stepped into the area of the library where tables and chairs were set up for students to work or for people to have Korean lessons or for friends to sit down and read together. As Wooyoung was carting his eyes around looking for the perfect place for himself and Eunha to sit, he spotted a familiar figure hunched over a chess board on one of the tables, all by himself.

The elder man had greying hair and wrinkles over his face, especially by his crinkled eyes and lips where he was smiling. He was dressed in a waistcoat and matching blazer, with glasses perched on the end of his nose. Wooyoung beamed, and started to pull Eunha towards his table. “Mr Choi!” He called once he was within hearing distance of the man.

San’s father raised his head at Wooyoung’s loud, infamous voice, scrunching his nose and tilting his head as he went. Realisation soon descended across his expression, and the bright, familiar smile that was so identifiable as his son’s split across his face. “Wooyoung-ah!” He greeted in return, holding a hand out to the two seats opposite him. Wooyoung skipped the rest of the way and pulled the seat out. It screeched against the floor, but he was too elated to care. He sat down, and pulled the second chair out for Eunha. However, instead of climbing into her own chair, she perched herself firmly on Wooyoung’s lap. He just wrapped his arms around the five-year-old to hold her secure. “And who do we have here?” Mr Choi softened his voice even further and cooed at Eunha.

“I’m Wooyoung-oppa’s neighbour, Eunha. Who are you?”

“This is my friend San’s appa.” Wooyoung made the introduction for his friend’s father.

“Ah, your boyfriend San?”

Red instantly danced over Wooyoung’s cheeks as he spluttered. “What - boyfriend - Eunha, no, my friend San.” He cast a nervous glance over at Mr Choi, who was only looking on amused and fond. Wooyoung wasn't sure if it made him feel better or worse. Heat burned under his skin. “Where did you get that idea?” It was only ever wishful thinking for Wooyoung.

“My appa. That man San is always at your flat with you, he said that he’s pretty sure he's your boyfriend. Is that not true?”

“Aish, it's not. San-ah and I are friends!”

“Ah, okay. That's disappointing.”

Wooyoung couldn't help but agree.

And so did Mr Choi, apparently. “Isn't it?” He chirped at Eunha, which must have turned Wooyoung a new shade of crimson. “But anyway,” Mr Choi moved on quickly to save Wooyoung some dignity. “What are you doing here, son?”

Wooyoung beamed once more. “Eunha and I were just going for a walk, and dropped in here to warm up, didn't we?” He looked down at Eunha in his lap, who nodded diligently. “How about you, Mr Choi? Just for some chess?” He gestured at the board still set up for a match between them.

The elder man laughed lowly once more, crossing his arms and resting them over the table. “I was actually just out for lunch with Sannie actually, but he had a few errands to run and thought it was best I wait here. I would begin a game, but I haven't found an opponent yet.”

“What’s chess?” Eunha piped up. “Is it a game?”

“That's right. How about we try and take on Mr Choi here? I'll teach you about what all the pieces do.”

Eunha nodded rapidly, while Mr Choi clapped once. “Excellent!”

“I like the horsey.” Eunha stated.

“That's a knight, and they move in an L shape across the board.”

“I can already tell that this is going to be confusing.”

Mr Choi laughed through closed lips again. “Well, the best way to learn something is to do it. We’ll teach you as we go. Anyway, these front pieces are the pawns, and they only move one square forward unless they are taking a piece off the board, as then they move diagonally one square. The aim of the game is to capture your opponent's king piece, which is this one here.” He picked up his own white king, and presented it to Eunha. She nodded, and stared down at the board, squinting as she studied it rigorously.

“All right, let's begin.”

Wooyoung and Mr Choi spent the next hour working through a game, teaching Eunha about what all the pieces did and how they moved, and how best to win. Wooyoung knew that Mr Choi was playing softly to ease her in, since he'd played against him multiple times and always had to be on guard. Eunha listened to them with rapt attention, taking each of their instructions in and storing them away. Whenever Mr Choi moved a piece, she'd tell Wooyoung, whispering into his ear, perhaps not very quietly, but it was her first game, what she wanted to do. And then Wooyoung would look at the board to gauge how best to enact it.

The crinkle never left Mr Choi’s eye as they played. He kept offering hints to Eunha as they went along. “Make sure to utilise your rooks - the castles - as they're a very important piece on the board.”

Eunha nodded sharply, and moved her rook into a position to check his king. Mr Choi hurrahed triumphantly. “Yes, like that!”

It wasn't quite a mate yet, so they kept on playing as they had been. Wooyoung knew he was giddy with laughter, as was Mr Choi. Eunha just had that charm about her. In a way, he didn't want the day to end. It was only made more interesting and jubilant when a shadow descended over their table. Wooyoung glanced up at the broad-shouldered form of his friend. “Sannie!”

The man standing over them smiled exactly like his father, mouth shut, closing his eyes and crinkles forming in the corners. Wooyoung’s heart fluttered in his chest. San had a rosy hue to his cheeks, which Wooyoung knew this time was from the chill outside rather than alcohol. His dark hair was rustled from the breeze. He was standing tall with his arms hanging by his sides, his long coat square against his shoulders. He took a good look at the three of them sitting below him, and smiled wider. “What are you guys up to?” He asked.

“We’re teaching the lovely Miss Eunha chess,” Mr Choi answered his son.

“Ahh,” San directed one of his bright beams in Eunha’s direction specifically. “Well, it's great to meet you, Eunha. Wooyoung has mentioned a lot of good things about you! I'm San.”

“Ah, right. You're Wooyoung’s friend.”

Mr Choi muffled a snort against his hands while Wooyoung cringed. San looked baffled, tilting his head and blinking rapidly down at them. Wooyoung hoped his face didn't display too much of his discomfort and panic, while his stomach cramped. By some stroke of luck, San simply shrugged and straightened up again, waving down at Eunha. The young girl waved back enthusiastically and Wooyoung tightened his hold around her.

“Well don't just stand there, son. Sit down and watch the epic finale of our match.” Mr Choi salvaged them all by gesturing to the empty seat next to Wooyoung and Eunha. Obediently, he shimmied as he slotted himself into the spot next to them. Eunha gazed at him in wonder, and once again Wooyoung felt like a kindred spirit to her. “Well, here we go.”

And San was the perfect spectator to watch Eunha win her first chess match - to a round of applause from the three men supporting her. She grinned her gap-toothed smile and wiggled on the spot, kicking her legs out in elation. Pride swelled in Wooyoung’s chest as she pointed at the board two more times just to check that they were all aware of her victory. “Well done Miss Eunha, a fair game,” Mr Choi bowed his head, which Eunha returned twice as deeply.

“Thank you for teaching me Mr Choi!”

“You're very welcome.”

“Hey!” Wooyoung cried unseriously with a pout. “I helped too!”

“But not as much as Mr Choi!”

Wooyoung accepted defeat and squeezed her again.

As San was now reunited with his father, and he and Eunha had warmed up, they decided to head out of the library together. Mr Choi had some shopping in town that he needed to get done, so they all decided to accompany him. Before they loaded him up on groceries, however, they thought it would be pleasant to take a stroll down the high street again and visit some of the novelty shops with Eunha. Wandering down the flat concrete, they dipped in and out of wacky gift shops and some of the antique stores. It became apparent very soon that Eunha liked to look at everything they had in there - all the trinkets piled high up on the shelves. And Mr Choi was nothing but indulgent.

At some point, Eunha took his hand instead of Wooyoung’s, and she took the opportunity to speed off with him in tow. To his credit, Mr Choi didn't seem out of breath in the slightest as Eunha swept him up into a whirlwind. A cacophony of giggles came from their general area when Wooyoung looked over, and he was warm all over. The other two were distracted, speeding down the street, voices raised high above their fellow passers-by. While they were off in their own world, Wooyoung allowed himself a smidgen of indulgence himself and linked his arm with San’s. His friend didn't put up any resistance. He pulled Wooyoung closer against him, so his firm, muscular form was plastered against Wooyoung’s own side. Heat radiated from his body like a warm blanket, and Wooyoung burrowed impossibly closer. For several paces, they walked together in silence. It was comfortable, like settling down at home after a long day. But with them, it could only last so long.

Wooyoung glanced at San’s side profile out of the corner of his eye. He took in his tousled, wind-swept hair again, his rosy cheeks, and the faded patches of sweat on his collar. He sighed, and used his other hand to hold onto San’s arm intertwined with his. “So, where did you go today? Who needed fighting?”

San startled, pointedly not looking directly at Wooyoung. The red on his cheeks deepened, and he pursed his lips in a pout. “What do you mean?”

Wooyoung scoffed, tapping his forearm. “Come on! I know what your hair looks like when it's been messed up from flying. And it's the middle of the day. You'd only risk flying about if you had someone to save. So, who was it? Who did you need to fight away?”

San was silent for only a few more seconds, gradually wilting under Wooyoung’s expectant, pressing, knowing expression. He finally seemed to resign, huffing out a puff of air before grinning at him. “You don't miss anything, do you?” He laughed, shaking his head with a fond smile. “It was just a classic burglar, working for some rich guy to steal an artifact from some other rich guy for the acclaim. I got a text from Yunho when I was out with my dad. It didn't seem like something that would take too long.”

“Yeah, just stopping a run of the mill burglar, as you do.”

San bumped him with his hip and smirked. “The guy gave up his employer very easily in the end, surprise surprise.”

“Well, eat the rich I say. I hope the dude still got paid.”

San shrugged, gently tugging Wooyoung around the corner, as his father and Eunha had ducked into a sweet side street, which had strings of flowers hanging between the buildings either side of the alley, like some sort of canopy. They were small and pink, like cherry blossoms. People were crammed together a bit more around here, so they had to weave themselves through the throng in hopes not to lose the other two marching up ahead.

“Well, I don't know,” San continued. “Hongjoong-hyung let him go and we tracked down his boss, who we arrested. Let's just hope he works something out.”

“Hmm.”

They cuddled together as they walked on in comfortable silence, chatting about anything and everything. Wooyoung didn't like to risk talking about San’s job out in the open too much, just in case someone overheard and put San’s identity at risk. It was part of the reason he knew that San’s father told them all he was running an errand when he met them. Eunha was there, and he wouldn't want to put the weighty responsibility of keeping such a big secret on a five year old. As much as Wooyoung trusts Eunha, the less people who know about his friends’ real identity, the better.

Superheroes kept their faces a secret for a couple of reasons. The main ones were that if they had a persona, especially if they were a chiseled beauty like - well - all of Wooyoung’s friends, but especially San, they became celebrities. And that wasn't the reason they became superheroes in the first place. He knew it wasn't true for everyone, but for Wooyoung’s friends, they embraced their power because they wanted to help the people that society often didn't like to help. They loved putting away the wealthy and influential who were content expanding their own greed. They could give something back to the world that gave them their powers by helping people who were down on their luck, helping them re-start. And they could also combat those who used their given powers for dominance, wishing to spread dominion over those who had no power, like Wooyoung. San and the rest of the superheroes who refused to covet glory and dictatorship were the only ones who could match them, were the only ones with a viable chance of defeating them. Of course, not every superhero who chose to be in the limelight and reveal their identity exercised control. Some just liked the fame and attention it gave. Wooyoung figured it was fair enough that they wanted to flaunt their gift, but their faces in the spotlight never lasted long, and were always fleeting, without the actions of a superhero to back them up. Space was soon made for the next rising star to join the ranks. It was ever-changing, like the currents that ran by in the sea.

The other main reason that superheroes like to hide their identity was so that they could have a normal life outside of their jobs. If San or Yeosang or any of them had revealed themselves, they couldn't go out with Wooyoung. He couldn't drag them out for a night of fun to his bar, or the zoo, aquarium, theme park, mini golf, or even his flat. They'd have to hide themselves away whenever they weren't fighting their latest foe, or they'd be overwhelmed. Wooyoung thought back to his time in school, where introverted Yeosang would hide behind him, let him do the talking with strangers or their classmates. And he imagined that it would be hard for them to sneak up on criminals when people could so easily recognise them in the street. With anonymity came advantage in plenty of cases, for good or bad or a mixture of both.

Eunha and Mr Choi were standing still outside a cafe when they next found them. Their hands were still linked, even though Eunha was jumping up and down with a massive grin. “Can we go in and get a cake, please, Wooyoung-oppa?”

“Yes please, son, we really fancy a sweet treat,” Mr Choi winked down at Eunha conspiratorially, who giggled back at him.

Wooyoung sighed in mock-defeat, like his bones had crumbled through their sheer force of will. “Well, I suppose so, if you must.”

“Yay!” Eunha stopped bouncing to grip Mr Choi’s hand even tighter and yank him along into the cafe. He only stumbled a bit before trotting after her diligently.

San snorted. “He's loving that.” He couldn't keep the fondness from his voice when talking about his father even if he tried. Unlike the rest of them, San hadn't grown up in Sector 1. His family were originally from the countryside. San grew up around large farms and rolling hills covered in crops, not the bustling, blinding, boisterous city. However, once his family discovered that San had powers, they moved here with him so that they could support his journey through the superhero agency.

Wooyoung’s heart simultaneously soared and pinched when he was reminded of how much San and his family loved each other. Ever since Wooyoung met his soft, gentle father, he was instantly in love, too. It was a stark contrast to his relationship with his own family, who hadn't spoken to him since they discovered he liked men. The only person he kept in contact with was his younger brother, but even then they had to message secretly so that the rest of them didn't find out. The last thing he'd want is for his brother to get into trouble.

Wooyoung was happy watching San with his father. It was enough to overcome the melancholy he became well versed in keeping at bay. San opened the door of the cafe for him, so he had to bow his head in his gracious show of thanks. San tugged him along after the others, and soon the four of them were sitting around a table with four slices of cake, giggling over nothing. Wooyoung’s head was light again as he joked with them, periodically stealing a bite from San’s slice without him noticing. He caught Mr Choi’s eye one time, who pressed his lips together in a valiant attempt to refrain from laughing - and to tell Wooyoung he wouldn't say a word. This was their secret.

After their cakes, they helped Mr Choi get his shopping. Before they knew it, Wooyoung and Eunha needed to rush home so that they were back in the flat in time for her father to collect her. They hugged them goodbye, then bolted down the street, excited yells probably audible to San and Mr Choi several streets away. Not that it stopped them. Mr Lee picked Eunha up with a grateful speech which Wooyoung attempted to stop multiple times yet again, and Eunha dived into his arms like she had super speed of her own. He waved them off, and returned to his flat with a smile, not even minding that he had work in half an hour.

*

Wooyoung laid the final bowl of pre-dinner crisps down on his table before darting back to the spaghetti simmering on a low heat on his hob. He wiggled the saucepan around, really not sure if it was doing anything, but managing to make sure it wasn't burning. The vegetables were crisping up on the frying pan, and the extractor fan was whirring trying to dispel the steam rising. He watched over it for a few more minutes before there was a knock at his door.

Wooyoung bounced on the balls of his feet before dashing across his flat to throw his door open. A jovial Hongjoong and Seonghwa stood on the other side, kind smiles on their faces as they greeted Wooyoung and filtered into the flat. Once the door was closed behind them, Wooyoung leapt and threw his arms around around both of their necks at the same time, hugging them close. “Oof-” Hongjoong started, disgruntled. Even though Wooyoung couldn't see it, he imagined the dissatisfied scrunch of his nose and the eye roll he'd undoubtedly receive from the physical show of affection. Seonghwa was the opposite. He sighed blissfully and snuggled into Wooyoung closer. With their height disparity, Wooyoung was a little lop-sided, but he made it work in order to hug his two friends.

“Hello to you, too!” Seonghwa laughed as they eventually pulled away, Hongjoong snapping back like a rubber band, unable to get away fast enough. Wooyoung cackled, and even Seonghwa shot an amused smile at his boyfriend.

“Hello, Wooyoung,” Hongjoong added on, resigned to his fate of another Wooyoung-planned evening.

“Hello, hyungs! Dinner is almost done, you can chill out in the living room while we wait for the others and for it to be ready!”

Seonghwa nodded and nudged a petulant Hongjoong in the direction of the sofas. They sat pressed together on one of them, and Wooyoung darted back to the kitchen to check that nothing was burning or boiling over. He wasn't in there for too long before the door rattled again.

Yeosang and Jongho were the next to arrive. Wooyoung opened the door to find them with their hands interlocked, dressed up for their casual hang-out in frilly shirts and fashionable black trousers. “Sangie! Jongho!” Wooyoung chanted.

They were a bit more prepared for Wooyoung as he opened his arms and charged at them, flinching back and trying to dodge him, attempting to swing around him. However, with their hands still clasped, they didn't get far, so fell victim to Wooyoung’s next hug. They each huffed, stiff in his hold as they adjusted to the embrace. Wooyoung buried his face between their necks, drinking in their soothing presence. Like always, they didn't take long to relax into his hug, each sighing and wrapping an arm around his waist in return. Wooyoung held it for the couple more seconds that he knew they would be comfortable with, before extracting himself, wiggling from their hold and beaming up at them.

“Thanks for having us, Woo. We’ll go sit down with the hyungs. One day you'll miss us.” Jongho grumbled.

Wooyoung held a finger up in the air. “But it is not this day!”

They rolled their eyes in unison before gracefully walking off at the same time, further into Wooyoung’s flat. Their hands were still firmly locked together, not coming apart for one second even as Wooyoung was hugging them. He shook his head at them fondly before returning to the kitchen. He mindlessly poked at the steaks which were still grilling and shook the saucepan with the pasta in again.

Like Hongjoong and Seonghwa, and Yunho and Mingi, Yeosang and Jongho had started dating during their time as a unit. Wooyoung had the pleasure of witnessing their gentle, compassionate courtship from the side-lines, offering Yeosang a listening ear whenever he wanted to get his overwhelming, simmering feelings for Jongho off his chest. They had many best friend nights in Wooyoung’s flat over a bottle of wine and one of Wooyoung’s home cooked meals. Wooyoung sensed quite early that there was something different between them. Jongho, usually blunt and prone to teasing his friends to show love, was soft with Yeosang. And his shy best friend would gravitate to the other superhero who made him more assertive and in control. They settled together like a beautiful shell on the ocean floor, balanced within their soft bed.

Yeosang was beautiful. He always had been. And what always appealed to others was that he didn't know he was pretty, always oblivious to the plethora of admirers he collected in his time. But Jongho was the first person that Wooyoung had seen him respond to. And he was so glad that the person Yeosang had set his heart on responded with just the same amount of love and admiration. For his beauty and his brains, but also just because he was Yeosang. It was all Wooyoung ever wanted for him. Because he deserved it.

Wooyoung was plucked out of his reverie by another knock on his door. He plastered another grin to his face as he raced back over. San was waiting on the other side with his broad shoulders and perfect smile and cute dimples and Wooyoung had to blink a few times to pull his brain back into focus. “Sannie!” He called, probably way too loud for the small space between the flats in his building - not that it had stopped Wooyoung before - and opened his arms for a hug. San opened his like a mirror image and they met in the middle in melodious harmony. San was warm and sturdy and Wooyoung stuck his face in the junction between his neck and shoulder, sighing in bliss.

Wooyoung’s head was always floaty whenever he was within San’s arms. Like momentarily, his worries were insignificant. He could just exist like this for a little bit, enveloped by the person he wanted most of all. If this was all Wooyoung would ever get, he'd be happy. It was enough. As much as he desires for their relationship to be slightly different, San kissing him wouldn't automatically make it stronger. Getting to hug him like this was the most important part. Knowing that for some reason, San wanted to keep him in his life was all the affirmation he needed for now. He got to cuddle San, cook for him, and spend time with him. He already had far more than he thought he deserved.

“Hmm, Wooyoung.” San sighed against Wooyoung’s face, holding him closer.

Wooyoung didn't know how long the two of them were standing there embracing. It could have been five minutes, one hour - time came to a standstill when San was involved. Their body heat encircled them like desert winds, pressing close to their skin. Wooyoung nuzzled against him once more before reluctantly pulling away. San looked equally dazed, like he'd just woken from a decade-long slumber, when Wooyoung peered up at him. “Hello Sannie,” he whispered.

San minutely shook his head to bring himself back to the present. He was still holding onto Wooyoung’s hips, grounding him. Wooyoung hands wrapped around each of his biceps, rooting San in place. “Hello Woo,” he whispered back.

“Hello, San!” The others chorused from the living room, snapping the thread holding the two of them in place. San staggered back from Wooyoung a step, so that their hands fell off of each other. Once he'd gotten over the shock, he smiled over at them and took Wooyoung’s wrist in his hand.

“Hey, guys!” San pulled Wooyoung back into the room, and the two of them nestled into a corner of one of the sofas together, across from Hongjoong and Seonghwa. It was a tight fit, but after years of being friends with Wooyoung, they'd gotten used to being in close physical proximity to one another.

The food was being kept warm on a low heat, so Wooyoung wasn't worrying about that. However, as his eye glanced around the room, he stopped at Yeosang and Jongho’s knowing stare, the quirk of their brows and semi-pleading in the sparkle of their eyes. Wooyoung swallowed and purposefully turned away.

Jongho was the first one to notice Wooyoung’s romantic affections for San, promptly telling Yeosang who had to confront Wooyoung about it and try to make him confess. He wasn't pushy about it by any means, and Wooyoung warmed as he thought about the fact that Yeosang just wanted him to be as happy as he was, but he was firm in his opinion that the best course of action for Wooyoung was to tell San how he felt. “Even if he doesn't feel the same, it's better to be honest. I know San would prefer not to be kept in the dark about it, Woo.” And he knew that Yeosang was right. San wouldn't judge him or drop him or scorn him for his feelings, but it was still scary. Because it changed things, even if San didn't want it to. Wooyoung trusted their friendship enough to say that they would navigate it, but it didn't change the fact that he still didn't believe he had the right to think about San the way he did. Because he was Wooyoung. Just Wooyoung. San was magnanimous and perfect and kind and skilled and special and he should have a partner that matched him in that. Wooyoung fell short, he knew it, and yet he still yearned.

His little heart was besotted, and by this point he was resigned to the fact that there was nothing he could do about it. One day he might be brave enough to follow Yeosang’s advice. Until then, however, he had everything he wanted. He was lucky. He could live without the cherry on top of his cake.

The group chatted animatedly about recent missions, Wooyoung’s job, people they knew and people they didn't, until the timer went off on Wooyoung’s phone and he shot up to start putting the food into bowls and onto large plates for everyone to help themselves. He'd stacked a pile of smaller, medium sized plates on the edge of the counter for the others to use. As he gazed back at the group, now hovering around his kitchen as Wooyoung served the meal, he caught Seonghwa sighing at the door. Wooyoung snorted. “They’ll be here soon,” he told his friend, who flinched a little at being addressed so suddenly. Seonghwa flushed red, and shrugged. Hongjoong wrapped an arm around his waist, whispering something into his ear. From the little Wooyoung caught, he figured it was some soothing remark about how much he loved how motherly Seonghwa was. Wooyoung held back another snort. “You know they probably just got caught up with… things.”

Hongjoong grumbled quietly under his breath. “Yeah, on group dinner night.”

Wooyoung shared a shrug with San, Yeosang and Jongho before he continued to serve everything up. San and Jongho helped him carry everything over to his table so the group could have a central place to pack everything onto their plates. “You know, for the only one without super strength here, you sure do make me do a whole lot of manual labour.”

Hongjoong seemed almost bored as he replied. “Please stop whining, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung giggled and skipped back over to collect the stack of plates. Cutlery clanged against porcelain as they all helped themselves, chattering away as they carried everything back to the sofas, trying not to stumble and spill everything everywhere. The room was filled with warmth and laughter, despite Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s earlier discontent. “If anyone spills sauce on the fabric, you have to buy me a new sofa!”

“Ohhhh,”Jongho grinned mirthfully and tipped his plate slightly, widening his eyes as if he was about to drop it, the contents precariously sliding closer to the edge. “Ohhh, ohhhh!”

Wooyoung balled his fist and shook it at Jongho, not at all threatening. “You dare, Choi Jongho!”

“You wanna bet?”

“You wanna lose your next salary on a new, bespoke sofa for me?”

“Why does he need to get you a new sofa entirely?” San questioned. “Can't he just get you a new cover?”

“Well, is he going to change the cover for me himself?”

Jongho scoffed. “Absolutely not. I have better things to do with my time.”

“You see?” Wooyoung stared pointedly at San. “New sofa it is.”

San smirked, cocking his eyebrow and smirking over at him. “Do you think he'll help you carry it up the stairs and into your flat, though?”

Wooyoung shook his head. “No. But you will, won't you, Sannie?” Wooyoung shuffled closer to him, fluttering his eyelashes and pouting, sticking his chin out.

Somewhere behind them, Hongjoong pretended to gag.

San smiled, but didn't exactly disagree with Wooyoung. He just returned to his meal without saying anything, so Wooyoung took it as a victory. The group chartered away over meaningful meaningless things as they made a dent in the massive platter Wooyoung had served up. Someone had stuck on a singing show in the background, which they all tuned out to focus on each other. In the middle of some fifteen-year-old’s voice cracking, there was yet another rap at the door, making the occupants of Wooyoung’s living room freeze.

As the nightmarish note wavered off, the exasperated expressions had already started to descend over Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s faces. Wooyoung raised his eyebrows and slowly stood to take a slow meander over to the door. He opened his mouth, a self-righteous visage covering his face. “Told you so,” he sang out in a whiny voice.

Hongjoong mock-scowled at him. “Don't you dare, Jung Wooyoung.”

He threw his head back in a cackle before picking up his speed to race over to the door. He figured they'd kept the latecomers waiting outside long enough. He heard a sigh behind him which he pointedly chose to ignore as soon as he got there. He swung the door open to greet the two disheveled giants standing sheepishly on his doorstep.

Mingi and Yunho’s clothes were askew, crinkled and haphazardly thrown on. Yunho even had a button mis-matched, so one button and the other hole was dangling free. Their hair was all messed up, standing up in odd directions and matted together in some places. Mingi’s especially was wild, tufts frizzy and sharp as if he'd just been electrocuted. Each of them were red in the face, panting a little still, and hanging off of each other - well, it was more Mingi clutching Yunho’s arm and letting his boyfriend hold him up. But Yunho was leaning his way slightly as well.

Upon seeing the state they were in, Wooyoung’s teasing grin widened and he slowly tracked his eye up and down their unpresentable forms. They shifted on the spot under his intense gaze. “Well, well, well,” Wooyoung began in a voice he knew they'd all come to dread. “What have we here? What have you two been up to, I wonder? Instead of being here on time to our scheduled meet-up?”

Yunho winced while Mingi turned a brighter shade of crimson. “Well - well we were - we were on our way and - well - we’re not that late anyway - and, I mean-”

Wooyoung sucked his lip in to try and refrain from laughing harder than he intended to. Mingi was always so fun to tease. He watched him flounder on the spot for a little longer, nodding sagely along to his stammered excuses, while Yunho hid his face behind his other hand. “Ah, I see,” he muttered along to Mingi’s rambles, interjecting now and again.

“Jung Wooyoung!” Hongjoong’s cranky shout broke into Wooyoung’s fun. “Just let them in! Their sexual relations are clearly more important than us anyway!”

Wooyoung was finally allowed to let out his giant cackle as he opened the door wider for the two of them, who had flushed even deeper at Hongjoong calling them out so blatantly. He tried not to fall over as he shuffled backwards to let them in, and they scurried past him with their metaphorical tails between their legs. Mingi was still hanging off Yunho, hiding behind him as if his boyfriend would shield him from Seonghwa’s disappointed mother's eyes. They cowered beneath their friends’ watchful gaze as they grabbed a couple of plates from the table and helped themselves to their own portion. Wooyoung just skipped back to his living room and settled beside San once again.

With the final two members of the group finally here, the evening continued on much like all the other times when they hung out. They chatted over food with some ridiculous show playing in the background, Wooyoung causing most of the noise and Hongjoong and Seonghwa trying to tidy up after him. San and Mingi encouraged him, while Yeosang, Jonho and Yunho sat back and observed the chaos. But Wooyoung figured that as long as he made them laugh at least once, he'd succeeded in corrupting them. But whenever they joined the side of sensible with Hongjoong and Seonghwa, he called them boring and batted his eyelashes at San again, searching for sympathy. San usually pouted at him in commiseration and invited him to cuddle, which Wooyoung would never deny or reject. He melted into him as if it was his place, where he was always meant to be. As silly and far-fetched as it was of Wooyoung to think. He just didn't think he'd ever find anyone he could bounce off the way he did with San.

When Wooyoung had first met the group that Yeosang was going to be fighting crime with, they hadn't been very close. He could tell instantly that what they had at the beginning was a working relationship. He only wanted to help when he started inviting them all to hang out outside of training hours; whether it was to his flat or out doing something in the city, as long as they were together getting to know each other, it didn't matter. He figured that they'd be more comfortable working together if they knew each other on a more personal level, especially if they were going to be entrusting their lives to each other on a regular basis. He knew the bare bones of what their daily lives were going to be from Yeosang at that point, and he didn't think that something so important would work if the team were only little more than strangers.

But their relationship only bloomed from there. After each hangout, their roots only grew deeper. Connecting into something indestructible and long-lasting. Slowly but surely, after each time Wooyoung pestered them to spend time together, their presence in each other’s lives became irreplaceable. Mingi and Yunho were the first to announce they were dating, followed by Seonghwa and Hongjoong. Yeosang and Jongho built up in the background over a long period, but their foundation never faltered. Each pillar of their team was as strong as stone, extending beyond just the romances that developed. Wooyoung was pretty sure that any one of them would die for one another. No matter who it was, Wooyoung would lay his life down to ensure none of the other seven were harmed. As much as his romantic feelings for San had lingered, starting off as a tiny, fragile sprout and extending into tangled, intense vines, his love for him was just as strong as his love for any of the other six.

While he and San had had their rocky start, he'd always been drawn to him. And after they made up after San gave him those roses, their compatibility was only made more and more obvious. San was his safe space, but also the source where he could re-charge, to express his full self and not worry about feeling judged. Despite his knowledge of how much he paled in comparison to their group or all of their superhero friends, he never got the sense from San or any of them that they thought of him as any lesser. Even though he wasn't special or important, they made him feel valued. It was a rare feat in their world that didn't believe someone like him should be associated with superheros, didn't think he should even know what his best friend could do. Wooyoung would follow Yeosang anywhere, and Yeosang would never let him go.

Towards the end of the evening as they were all winding down, the energy dissipated from the room, when they were all staring blankly at Wooyoung’s television, willing the contestant on the show to not botch their next high note, Wooyoung was cleaning up in the kitchen. He'd wash all the plates and cooking utensils later once they'd all gone home, but for now he was just stacking everything by his sink so it was all in one place. He hummed as he got on with his task, mindlessly scrubbing the dirty counter down with a damp sponge once everything was haphazardly stacked. He was so lost in his little menial tasks that he didn't notice Yeosang sneaking up on him until the last minute. As soon as he spotted him in the corner of his eye, Wooyoung flinched and slapped a hand over his chest. “Fuck! Yeosang! Don't sneak up on me like that,” he whined, pretending to slap Yeosang’s shoulder. His best friend stood still as a statue and watched him have his little tantrum, blinking back at him unamused, eyebrow raised. “Hmm, what is it?”

Now Yeosang’s lips wobbled, and Wooyoung tracked his movements as he glanced wearily at the others still captured by the show. They'd gotten so used to Wooyoung’s sudden outbursts at this point that they barely flinched or looked up when he made some sudden noise. But the fact that Yeosang had to check how involved their attention was made something freeze inside him, his shoulders stiffen. The grin on his face faded into something cautious, something braced. He softly placed the sponge on the counter and stepped towards Yeosang. His best friend saddled up next to him, closing them in like they were in their own private little cove. Yeosang glanced at their friends one final time before shooting Wooyoung a concerned glance. “What is it, Sangie?” He asked in a whisper, tilting his head closer to Yeosang.

“I just wanted to ask you if you're alright.”

The genuine concern and care in Yeosang’s tone threw Wooyoung off a little. He swayed on his feet. “Yes? Why wouldn't I be?”

Yeosang sighed, giving him a pointed look. “San.” It wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact. Something Wooyoung couldn't argue, something Yeosang knew for sure. Wooyoung tried his best to act nonchalant and unaffected - he wasn't sure he quite succeeded - and quietly brush Yeosang’s worries aside with a forced chuckle under his breath.

“It's the same as it's always been, Sangie. I'm okay. Nothing’s changed.”

“Except it has. Dongpyo is out of the picture for good.”

“And San’s heartbroken.”

“And yet it's you I’m most worried about. One day you're going to explode, Woo. You're not going to be able to keep your feelings inside forever. For your sake, I'd rather you get it out in a way that you can control.”

Wooyoung’s chest warmed at his concern. It was the most Yeosang thing ever. He didn't want him to think that his fear for him was unappreciated, so Wooyoung linked their fingers briefly, squeezing his knuckles between his own. “I love you, Sangie. And I love that you worry about me. But I'm okay, really. I can handle my own emotions.”

“I know you can.” Yeosang sighed. “Sometimes I feel that you handle them a bit too well, if you know what I mean.” He seemed to deflate after that, as if realising that he really wasn't getting anywhere with Wooyoung tonight.

Wooyoung shrugged, choosing to ignore the implications of that and sweep it under the rug for another day.

“You're not alone, Woo. I'm always here for you.”

He smiled, joyful and full, leaning against Yeosang. His friend stood sturdy, supporting him without flinching. “I know,” he whispered into the collar of Yeosang’s shirt. “Thank you, Sangie. I love you.”

Yeosang sighed as if someone was trying to insist that the world was flat. Like his nails were being pried from their beds. Like he was being compelled against his will, and he was doing everything he could to hold his true feelings back. “I love you, too.”

Wooyoung giggled sweetly and wrapped him in a firmer hug. Knowing that this time Wooyoung was putting it on, Yeosang squirmed and tried to wiggle his way out of the suffocating embrace, leaning back further and further away from Wooyoung until he was able to break free. He swatted at Wooyoung as he scampered away to tuck himself beside Jongho once more, and Wooyoung cackled again. He left the dishes and sponge on the side, and bounded back over to his friends. They welcomed him back with oblivious smiles or the customary raise of the head. Wooyoung couldn't help but settle a little in relief, sinking back into the sofa cushions. San pat his thigh, and Wooyoung once again ignored Yeosang’s - and Jongho’s, this time - resigned stare and sigh.

Wooyoung was fine. Because he had to be. He loved Yeosang, and he didn't want to cause him any additional stress or worry. It had nothing to do with his best friend when isolation gripped Wooyoung’s heart in its icy grip, or he struggled to accept that his friends loved him, struggling to believe it was possible and what to do with it on his periodic realisations that it existed. It was his burden to bear. But when San sat close, or Yeosang told him he loved him, Wooyoung wondered if one day he could lighten his load. One day. Not today. But someday.

*

When their friends had found out that Dongpyo had started dating Jungsu and San had been relegated to second place, they made sure to tell him how much he meant to them, and that although he wasn't right for Dongpyo, he would be right for someone. Hope wasn't all lost. San cuddled them all, thanking them with snuggles and mumbled “I love you”s.

But despite promising them all that he was fine, that he would work on moving on from Dongpyo, Wooyoung still found his lightweight friend and the love of his life sitting at the bar at Horizon whenever the team had a day off the next day, when they weren't on patrol. He'd lost count of the amount of times he'd stepped out of the back room to begin his shift behind the bar and found San sitting upright in between some giggly night goers, innocently casting his eyes over the bottles of spirits lined up on the shelves that he'd never drink. He'd always beam when he saw Wooyoung, though, and send him a little wave. It was infectious, because Wooyoung always returned his mini wave without fail. They'd developed a routine.

He didn't really need to ask why San was there. He was heartbroken and he was trying to drink away the pain. Wooyoung understood. He'd had several wine nights with Yeosang and Jongho when he was sad over San himself. He didn't place San on the spot. Just silently poured his one beer of the night and talked to him in between serving customers. And when the night got really rowdy, such as when San turned up on Friday or Saturday nights, he claimed he was content to sit there and watch Wooyoung charm everyone. The loud music pounded in his ears as always, but San remained happy in his own little world sitting there, watching the material plain roll by. On quieter nights, he'd cry a bit, cheeks flushed and eyes red-rimmed, hair messed up and head down on the bar. Wooyoung’s heart always clenched when he had to witness it. Slightly because San was upset over being rejected by another man, but mostly because he just purely hated seeing him sad. San should always be happy.

On San’s bad nights, Wooyoung took a moment whenever he could to card his fingers through San’s wispy hair, muttering soothing sweet nothings which got drowned out by the thumping music. It was probably for the best. When San had his head down, buried in his thin shirt sleeves, Wooyoung said some things that he never would have been able to say to San’s face. “I love you. I love you. You're so loved, San. Everything is going to be okay.” San resurfaced eventually, bravely managing one of his bright smiles at Wooyoung, none the wiser. He'd nod at him gratefully, and cover his hand with his own. As far as he was concerned, Wooyoung had only been playing with his hair. Wooyoung swallowed his nausea down, and smiled back at him, bopping his nose. “You're alright, San-ah.”

Over time, Wooyoung came to accept that Yeosang had a point that day in his flat. Telling San how he felt, even if the other man couldn't hear and was still oblivious, alleviated something suffocating within him. Something he couldn't explain. The sensation that made him feel like he was drowning, toxic water was filling up his lungs from the inside and choking him. Telling San he loved him for real, holding nothing back, punctured a hole in the taut organ within him and let the fluids gush out, freeing. It put a stopper back before the full volume of water was released, keeping some within him to fester. But enough was released to push him out of the danger zone in which he might explode.

As the evenings spent with San shadowing him at work bumbled along, San’s bad nights became less and less frequent. Wooyoung loved his good nights, because he looked so damn adorable staring amazed at the chatty night goers and - Wooyoung would like to think - his drink mixing abilities. Wooyoung personally liked making spirits and cocktails the best. The prettier the better, he always said. And so many cocktails could be so colourful and vibrant. He forced San to try a really fruity one once, one of Horizon’s specials that included a lot of rum, after his one standard beer. He was so dazed afterwards, cheeks flaming a shade of crimson that Wooyoung had never seen on him, but he looked up at Wooyoung afterwards with his sparkling, wonderstruck eyes, proudly declaring that he liked it. He didn't get them often due to the high alcohol content, but he ordered one every now and again afterwards. Wooyoung soared.

The two of them met up with their friends and alone just the two of them outside of the bar too, at Wooyoung’s flat, just as often as they always did. And now, Eunha could visit with San there as well now that they were acquainted. With San there, they finally had someone who could play the shark in the ever-expanding drama between Younghee and Hana. Call him selfish, however, but Wooyoung liked the nights where he and San snuggled up on his sofa together, under a blanket, to watch films and eat take away best. San let him cling to him, half in his lap, and clung to him back, just as tight. At least when they were alone, with their friends or Eunha at his flat, Wooyoung wasn't distracted by work or interrupted by the electronic dance music and coloured spotlights of Horizon.

His favourite nights at Horizon, however, were the quiet ones where San wasn’t crying. The nights outside of the Friday and Saturday rush. Because those nights were the quietest, he could spend the majority of the night chatting with San about anything and everything. His manager didn't mind, as long as he served the customers as soon as they appeared, unafraid to abandon San in the middle of a speech for a few minutes. He hired Wooyoung for his chatty nature anyway, he was sure. When he was out of school and desperate for a job, his outspokenness had to shine through. And the job description for a bartender fell into his lap swiftly. Not that Wooyoung would ever complain about how fortunate he was. Plenty of people just as desperate as he was struggle to find work for ages, relying on the charity of the few people they knew. He was lucky. While he was sure that Yeosang would have taken him in and kept a roof over his head, he was glad he didn't have to ask that of him. He was glad that he was able to take care of himself.

San’s nights spent crying were few and far between by the time spring was rolling in again, and the air was crisp in the mornings and full of potential. But he still turned up at Horizon at every opportunity without fail. Wooyoung was sure to keep an eye out for him anyway, trying to decipher what he was searching for in there. In his mind, San had to be looking for something he was sure was there - why else would he keep coming back? There were other ways to soothe a broken heart. Wooyoung just couldn't place his finger on what it was.

On one of San’s chattier nights with him, Wooyoung was in a world of his own when a familiar figure sat down gently beside San at the bar. When Wooyoung glanced up and saw the elder man place his frail fingers down on the beer mat, he blinked up in surprise, joy flaring within his chest. “Mr Youngsoo-ssi!” He cheered, voice high and elated. He stepped away from San lean over the bar, attention consumed by the elderly gentleman whose cheeks bunched up at Wooyoung’s delight in seeing him. His hair was white and thinning, he sat hunched over a bit, with his walking stick resting against the bar beside his stool. His wrists rested on the mat, supporting his body which could have been blown away in a light breeze. And yet he sat, equally joyous at seeing Wooyoung again.

“Wooyoung,” he began, voice slightly drowned out by the music still blaring. But Wooyoung would strain his ears to hear him any day. “It's good to see you again. How have you been?”

“I've been well, thank you, Mr Youngsoo-ssi. And yourself?”

“Ah,” he sighed, and Wooyoung deflated sympathetically, features softening until he was leaning in to await his response patiently. “I've been okay,” Youngsoo decided, probably after seeing Wooyoung’s crestfallen expression. “Don't you worry about old me. Is this your friend?” He nodded his head in San’s direction, who was doing a horrible job at pretending he wasn’t listening in to their conversation. Once his name was mentioned, San shook himself in shock and attempted to sit up to present himself and not fall off his stool. Wooyoung bit a laugh back.

“Yes! Hello, it's good to meet you! I'm San.” He managed without stuttering or squeaking. Wooyoung scrunched his nose up and nodded proudly.

“Well it's good to finally meet you, Wooyoung chats about his friends all the time.”

San blushed and bowed his head, sinking lower. “Ah,” he laughed, flustered. “Good things, I hope.”

Wooyoung snorted outright this time, and Youngsoo shot him an amused glance. “All good things, I swear it.”

The three of them mused about the bar and the music and the latest slew of arrests of corrupt politicians in Sector 1 for a good hour, before a couple of other regulars came in and became instantly overjoyed and thrilled at finding Youngsoo at the bar. He smiled over at them and instantly settled into a conversation about the latest dates each of the young people in their circle had been on. Wooyoung served them their drinks, and then they ushered Youngsoo over to one of the booths along the side of the room to continue their catch up. Youngsoo bid goodbye to them with expert charm just before he was whisked away to provide some experienced insight into the dating patterns of the group of friends who recognised him. Wooyoung was still chuckling under his breath when he finished serving the next round of tipsy dancers. It was calm after that, so he walked back over to an amused, but puzzled San.

“Who was Youngsoo-ssi, then? I don't think you've mentioned him before?” San tilted his head in bewilderment, eyes cast somewhere else, as if he was thinking back on every conversation he and Wooyoung had ever had.

Wooyoung almost slapped himself. “I can't believe I've never mentioned Youngsoo to you before!” He bent over the bar and took San’s hands in his own, slamming their clenched fists down on the beer mat. A few bubbles of some concoction seeped out, but Wooyoung was far too busy introducing San to someone important. “He’s a legend around here. He's been coming to Horizon ever since it opened.”

“Well, for one I don't think it's surprising that you've not mentioned him, Woo. You know a lot of people. You can talk to anyone.”

Wooyoung pretended not to notice the awe in San’s tone, otherwise his heart might start beating out of his chest and he'd be too uplifted with hope for something that was innocent in nature, with nothing behind it at all. He just shook their entwined hands and leveled a serious stare at San, who seemed to sober up and lock his gaze back on Wooyoung with apt attention. “If you think I know everyone, you're not ready for Youngsoo. I think at this point he knows every queer person in Sector 1. He even knows Yeosang, and you know how shy he is.” He shook his head. “Anyway, Youngsoo was friends with the person who founded this place, and he's frequented Horizon ever since. He's given plenty of teens his sofa to crash on when they have nowhere else to go, he’s started several charities and been the matchmaker of dozens of couples across the years. He and his partner used to come here together.” Wooyoung stopped, drooping and holding San’s fingers tight. “He lost his partner last year, the man he was with for over fifty years. And he's been lonely. He tries to come here as often as he used to, but he’s told me that he finds it hard to leave his flat nowadays.” Wooyoung glanced over at the group of young people pulling Youngsoo up for a dance, getting him to twirl one of the girls around. “So when the regulars around here do see him, we make sure to chat to him, to make sure he isn't lonely. It's what he's been doing for all of us for so many years. We just want to give something back.” An unconscious smile bloomed over Wooyoung’s face as he watched Youngsoo laugh with the others, allowing the same girl to twirl him around this time.

Wooyoung gazed into San’s eyes, which were looking back at him just as intently. There was something else in there, something deep and meaningful and present and intentional that Wooyoung couldn't quite grasp, but made his heart constrict nonetheless. San watched him carefully, like he was examining a work of art for the first time, eager to take in every detail, but meticulously taking it slowly so he didn't miss anything. Wooyoung’s breath stuttered, and hoped that San didn't notice. If he did, he didn't mention it. He nodded slowly, telling Wooyoung that he understood the significance of all he'd just told him.

Wooyoung sighed and braced himself. But even though they weren't hugging, Wooyoung felt as if he was safe in San’s embrace. Holding his hands, letting him anchor him, Wooyoung could be open and honest. “Because even though I love you guys and what you can do, one superhero can't make mass change. Only communities can do that, when people come together and support one another. People from all over, people who share similarities but who couldn't be more different, yet still cherish each other. Everything you superheros do makes a difference, makes the world slightly better, Sannie. But we can't put the future of our world on a few individuals’ shoulders when there is still so much work left to be done, when we keep getting knocked down. We need to come together, unite.” He was looking at the group of regulars take turns linking arms with Youngsoo to gently waltz him around the room to a chorus of cheers as he spoke, chest warm. “That's what really matters. That's what's going to save us in the end.”

He didn't know why he'd gotten so soft spoken or sentimental all of a sudden, but he was sure it had something to do with seeing Youngsoo again. He was shaken back to the real world when San caressed the back of his hand with his thumb, his gentle embrace tickling Wooyoung back to the loud music and the prospective customers working their way towards the bar. “I know,” San told him before Wooyoung had to extract himself to actually do his job. “I agree, Woo.”

A couple of weeks later, they were back in the exact same position again. San at the bar, sitting patiently, watching with a smile as Wooyoung served a group of patrons. It was a quiet night again, a Tuesday. There was only a scattering of students who really attended on a Tuesday night, out of the whole city who could go. San and the others had been busy this week. There had been an uproar by some tech mogul, who thought it was a great idea to make his criminal enterprise more obvious. So San and the rest had spent a good few weeks tracking him - and his secret lair in the city - down so that they could arrest him. Using his superpowers so much was exhausting, so Wooyoung could tell that San was having a good time not having to move, having Wooyoung serve him his beer and put his feet up to some music and conversation.

When Wooyoung was done with the customers, he made his way back over to him, wiping the bar down with a tea towel as he went. “We met up with Dongpyo and the rest out of the blue when we were making the arrest yesterday,” San began so suddenly out of nowhere that Wooyoung had to realign himself, having fallen off his tracks. His brain glitched like a record player that had gotten stuck, scratching and whirring in his ears.

Dongpyo. Yes, Dongpyo. San’s crush, the man he'd been pining for ever since he first encountered his fairy-like figure. The man who was taken, and had broken San’s heart unwittingly. The man San had spent hours and hours crying over. The chosen one. The most powerful superhero to ever grace Sector 1. That Dongpyo.

“You guys met up with his team?”

“Yeah,” San beamed. “We were both putting in an arrest at the same time, and decided to catch up over some lunch afterwards. We went to one of the cafes at their agency building. It was nice.” San looked lighter, like a balloon filled with helium reaching for the clouds. “But I realised I don't feel anything for him anymore.”

Wooyoung’s world stopped. Like everything had frozen around him, he was trapped in time. Eternally stuck in the moment he found out that San wasn't in love with Dongpyo anymore.

San continued as if Wooyoung hadn't just shattered. “We were just hanging out like normal, and Dongpyo and Jungsu were being all cute and all over each other, but I didn't feel anything. In fact, I was rooting for them, I found it adorable. There wasn't a trace of jealousy or anything. I just wanted what's best for them. And that's when I realised that I haven't thought about Dongpyo in that way for a while. I don't daydream about taking him on dates anymore, nor fantasise about what it would be like to hold his hand. It's over.”

Relief was a good colour on San. Especially about this. He was a kite set free, finally able to live his own life. He was soaring, weightless. Despite the hectic week he'd had, there was not a single crease of worry between his brows or around his eyes. He was well-rested, jubilant. Wooyoung stopped to admire him. But while he could share in San’s relief and freedom, there was a part of this development that was bittersweet. Because although it pained him every time he thought about San loving Dongpyo, it was an area that he understood. It was a fact of the universe, like the knowledge that the sun rose every morning. San was in love with Dongpyo. But now that he wasn't, he could fall in love with anyone. Instead of San helplessly pining over someone who was taken and uninterested in him romantically, San might now find someone who did reciprocate his feelings, and Wooyoung would have to watch them float into the sunset together. Dongpyo was a painful but known entity, and Wooyoung was afraid that the unknown would crush him completely, molding him into stocky, constricted cubes. It was terrible and selfish of him to miss the time when San was in love with someone he had no chance with; Wooyoung was the most cruel and villainous person alive. He felt the need to pinch himself, to try and break himself out of his toxic thoughts.

“How do you feel about that?” He asked San anyway, somehow managing to bring himself under control so that they could have a normal conversation about it. Totally normal and breezy.

“Good, actually.” San smiled, at that same curious, eager twinkle was back in his eyes. “I'm feeling really good about it.”

San didn't elaborate, but he didn't really need to. He only had to live now, unburdened by the chains of an emotion he could only shake off organically. Wooyoung feared that he'd stop coming to Horizon as much, but it turned out not to be the case. The next night San had off, Wooyoung was pleasantly surprised to find him sitting jovially in his usual seat, waiting for him. And to his equal selfish delight, San’s eyes didn't wander around the bar in the hungry way that Wooyoung watched a bunch of the other patrons’ eyes wander. His eyes remained on him, actually, following him everywhere. Wooyoung shook the dangerous thoughts from his head, and poured San his beer.

At the end of every night San spent there, Wooyoung would force some water down him and help him stumble home. He didn't need to call Seonghwa for help again, managing to hoist San off the stool and wrap his arm around his shoulder, so they could lean against each other. He was sure that San was reining in his super strength so as to not to push Wooyoung off the pavement and into the road on their early morning treks home, which he found sweet. Getting home each evening was a joint effort, but one that Wooyoung would cherish for eternity.

But one night San came and didn't drink at all. He didn't order his one customary beer as he always did. He put in a request for a cola, and then returned to water for the rest of the night. Wooyoung giggled, unawares and unquestioning, each time he had to run to the tap to fill up San’s alcohol-free glass. He had plenty of people stumble in who didn't drink, either out of choice or because they were the designated driver. Wooyoung hated to judge people for choices in preference. It wasn't any of his business. But San, for being a lightweight, usually ordered at least one. He didn't say anything, deciding to let San tell him on his own if he had something going on.

The night was like many others. Standard. It wasn't too busy, nor insanely quiet. Wooyoung and San spoke, but Wooyoung often had to step away to tend to people. It wasn't a significant date to either him or San as far as Wooyoung was aware. But something about the day felt different. Charged. Changed. Like static electricity sparked each time Wooyoung met eyes with San, whose eyes trailed after him like he was bewitched. Overwhelmed and confused, Wooyoung had to take several deep breaths to keep himself together, to avoid the fragile stitches holding his stuffing in from snapping.

“Can I have one more water please?” San called out to him as he was polishing some of the glasses left out and stacking the back on the shelves behind the bar. At San’s order, he took a break to head back to the tap and fill him up.

Wooyoung leant over the bar as he placed the glass back down, leaning his elbows on the surface to stare San down. San met him brazenly, unflinchingly. For once, Wooyoung wasn't sure what to do in front of him. For the sake of his own pride, he kept his head up, raising his eyebrows in question. “Are you having financial issues?” He went with humour to try and distract himself from the pounding of his heart and how much his knees were shaking. “Is that why you keep ordering the water? Because it doesn't cost anything?” Wooyoung honestly didn't care why San was ordering the water. He could get whatever he liked. But he did care about the intense way he was suddenly staring at him, the identifiable interest swelling in the pits of his pupils. It didn't make sense. Wooyoung didn't understand.

San was deliberate as he raised his gaze from the glass of water on the beer mat below him up over Wooyoung’s low-cut work shirt - black, with the top three buttons undone. He slowly took in his collar bones, his neck, his lips, lingering on his lips, before speeding over his nose to meet his eyes again. Wooyoung’s breath hitched. The dark look he'd caught in San’s eyes was back, and unabashedly directed at him. He didn't know what to do. He was frozen. Locked under San’s spell. The air around them was hot - not just the usual level of heat packed in from sweaty bodies dancing and crowds packed in together. Their faces had moved closer, bodies gravitating towards each other, so much so that Wooyoung could feel San’s hot, gentle breath on his skin. The temperature was so stark that it sent a shiver down his spine. He sucked a lungful of air in. It was unmistakable how much Wooyoung was affected when they were so close together, almost fused. If he was able to think clearly, Wooyoung would probably be mortified at how obvious he was being, terrified of San discovering the extent of how much he was affected by him. But as it was, the only thought circulating in his head was San, San, San, need, need, need.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Wooyoung instructed as his eyes hooded over, threatening to close in bliss and expectation for San to press himself against him so that he could melt into him.

“Like what?” San asked, equally as breathless, flickering back down to Wooyoung’s parted lips yet again.

“Like that.” His voice came out so breathy, almost like a moan.

“Why?” San leant in closer, their noses almost brushing together.

Fear gripped Wooyoung’s heart instantly. Everything around him was suddenly so real, not the dream it had been previously. This was really happening, not something he was acting out in his head. Wooyoung panicked. “Because it will start to give me ideas,” he rushed.

The spell was broken.

Wooyoung didn't know what San saw in his face - his fear, apprehension - but he also fell back like the rubber band holding them together had snapped. A little shell-shocked, the two of them stumbled back into the cold, shivering and dizzy. They stood and stared at each other for a few moments longer, but then Wooyoung was being called away by his job - by some miracle no one came up to the bar while he and San were enraptured with each other. If they did, they would have been waiting because nothing but his own panic was going to pull him out of the downward spiral the two of them had started. The walls Wooyoung had built up were unravelling, yet only time was going to tell if the outcome would be a good thing. Wooyoung had almost stumbled away when a frantic hand reached over the bar, and tightly gripped his wrist, as if he was about to disappear forever, break away into dust and float up to the skies, lost. The shock of the sudden clasp forced Wooyoung to turn back around. Because San never stopped him when he had customers waiting, even if they were in the middle of a conversation.

“You have tomorrow night off, don't you?” San asked, trying to spit all of the words out at once.

Once his buffering brain had pieced San’s question together, Wooyoung nodded. “Yeah, I'm off tomorrow.”

“Meet me outside Horizon tomorrow night. Just us. Be a customer for a night. Please.”

Wooyoung didn't have time to come up with some theory as to why San was inviting him out to his own workplace, he had customers waiting, so he nodded. And he was pretty sure that even if his mind had time to catastrophize, he'd still say yes. Because he trusted San.

So that is how Wooyoung found himself standing outside his own workplace on his night off, waiting for San. He'd decided against a coat, knowing how hot it got in there, but was slightly regretting his decision in the cool nighttime breeze. He shivered a little as San ran up to him, taking his wrist in his own. “Hey,” he said, and Wooyoung noticed the change in atmosphere instantly.

He never usually had to think much around San, but now, his mind wouldn't stop whirring, coming up with excuses and reasons to explain why San was acting as he was, like he was interested. But no matter how much he tried to explain it away, he couldn't mistake the well-known sparkle in his eyes, the tentative presses of his hands against him, the soft determination. He'd never felt as cherished yet put under a microscope at the same time. “Shall we go in?” He asked, in part to get out of the cold, in part to avoid combusting on the spot. He shrugged his shoulder in the direction of the small queue which had begun to form in front of the doors to Horizon.

“Yes,” San agreed. “Let’s go in.”

The place was slightly different as a customer than it was as a bartender. People were a lot closer to him, the music somehow louder, with extra thumps. San stuck plastered to his side - which he knew was more a result of how packed the place was rather than some electric desire to fuse himself to Wooyoung. However, after recent events, maybe Wooyoung would be hasty to rule it out completely. He shook his head and abruptly dragged San towards the bar.

His friend Yeonjun was working today, so they caught up for a little before Wooyoung ordered his cocktail. San opted for water again. When Wooyoung shot him a questioning look, quirking his eyebrows upwards, San sighed and smiled. “Let me look after you tonight. You work so hard. I want you to have a fun night, without having to worry about picking up after me.”

Wooyoung’s heart somersaulted and he clutched the bottom of his shirt to calm himself down. Squeezing the material until it creased, Wooyoung willed himself not to get carried away. To distract himself, he downed his cocktail in one and took San’s hand again, pulling him to the dance floor.

Screams and laughter blended in with the heavy dance beats, ABBA blasted to full volume. Wooyoung used his shoulders to nudge people aside so he and San could join the fray, making their own little pocket within the crowd. Once he deemed their spot good enough, he turned back around to face San, and instantly regretted it when his stomach swooped again. San was looking at him like he was the most precious metal on earth, set to save humankind. The irony wasn't lost on him, when San was the superhero, and he could barely save the plant that lived in his flat. Wordlessly, intently, San placed his hands on Wooyoung’s hips, pulling him closer.

Wooyoung’s breath hitched, but he instinctively brought his own hands up to loop around San’s neck, inching closer until their chests were pressed together. The music was so loud, they couldn't hear each other without shouting, but this time, they didn't need words. San held Wooyoung close, and they danced together.

The air was hot, stuffy, but like a utopia within San’s embrace. He swayed his hips, and San shifted his arms to follow his movements, keeping a tight grip on him. At some point, San leant down to rest their foreheads together, and Wooyoung finally lost himself in his new reality. Stars were born and planets aligned within him; he closed his eyes to be encompassed in this otherworldly brilliance. He laughed, bright and unburdened, screaming in joy.

Time was an illusion when Wooyoung was this happy. He and San danced, got more drinks and talked, then danced some more. Each time they returned to the dance floor, San refused to let him move further than two steps away from him, and Wooyoung had never felt the desire, the instinct, to remain by his side more. He encountered a couple of people he vaguely knew in the crowd, but couldn't manage more than a wave tonight, when he'd usually barge over to them and begin roping them into some hour-long catch-up. But not tonight. No. Tonight was about him and San. He didn't yet understand why or how. He just knew it was important.

Wooyoung could handle his alcohol pretty well. It took a lot to get him really far gone. He had a couple more drinks, only enough to get him slightly buzzed so that he was infinitely more giggly than usual - an achievement in itself - and nowhere near enough to impact his memory. He had a feeling he wanted to remember tonight. Every morsel, every second and action; he was going to imprint it into the very fabric of his brain. He was on the dance floor with San again, this time with San behind him, caging him in from against his back. His hands were on his hips again, flowing with him as he swayed gracefully, like water running along a stream. He reached one of his hands up and back to hold onto San’s neck, pulling him even closer. He felt the rumble of San’s moan against his shoulders and upper back, and then San buried his face in the junction between Wooyoung’s shoulder and neck. He sighed, eyes fluttering closed.

They stayed like that for a while, swaying slowly even as the music became more raucous. The people around flailing their hands were barely a blip on Wooyoung’s radar that they may as well have been blurry specs in one of those old films. Ever so slowly, millimetres at a time, San’s arms began to wind around Wooyoung’s waist until he was fully hugging him from behind. Wooyoung lost some of the strength in his legs, choosing to lean the bulk of his weight against San. The man with super strength barely flinched, holding Wooyoung as if he weighed nothing. Turning his head to the side at the same time as San raised his from out of his neck, the side of their noses brushed against each other. A spark went through Wooyoung, and he forgot to breathe.

Eyes hooded and pulled forwards by an undeniable, omnipresent force, Wooyoung spun around within San’s arms until they were face-to-face yet again. He tilted his chin up, keeping the tips of their noses together, a gentle press like the beat of a butterfly's wing. He inhaled San while the arms around his waist tightened. “Wooyoung,” he watched San’s lips mouth, just before Wooyoung leant up on his tippy-toes and pressed his own mouth against San’s in a kiss.

Everything came together. The shattered pieces of Wooyoung’s hopes and dreams slotted into their rightful place as he and San kissed. He tangled his hands in San’s hair, and the arms around his waist squeezed. He was practically flopped over him, but San held him up with purpose and duty, as if there was nowhere else in the world he'd rather be, no one else he'd rather be with. Wooyoung ascended, deepening their kiss and holding the back of San’s neck like a lifeline. San moved his lips against his in the same manner in which they danced together, slow and sensual. Wooyoung leant back and let San take the lead, moulding his lips whichever way he wanted. Wooyoung would let San take as much as he desired and saw fit, just as long as he kept holding Wooyoung like this.

They broke for air only to immediately jump back on each other again. Wooyoung mewled as San bit his bottom lip, just so his mouth would part and he could slot his tongue inside. It felt so right. Like magic. Wooyoung shivered against him, alight and blazing, broken apart and pieced back together. Like he was soaring and refused to come down, he deepened his kiss with San further. San met him just as enthusiastically, just as entranced and bewitched, like he was just as in love. They refused to part. Two halves of a whole. Two sides of the same coin. San and Wooyoung. Wooyoung and San.

*

Wooyoung woke up caged in San’s arms. Face buried in his chest, arms looped around his middle, legs tangled together, he slept better than he had done in forever. San was nuzzling the top of his head, rustling his hair in his sleep. Wooyoung did the same to his chest, allowing San to squeeze him tighter. He closed his eyes again, willing the universe to allow him to stay in this moment until the end of time. If some entity had some giant pause button somewhere, he wished for them to press it above all else. Because Wooyoung was sure that he was living in a dream in which he did not want to wake up from.

Eventually, after laying with his eyes closed for so long and not drifting back to sleep, Wooyoung raised his head again, jostling San. They were at San’s place, having stumbled back there after leaving Horizon and falling into his bed in a tangled heap. They didn't think parting was feasibly possible at that point, only wanting to experience everything the other could give. Wooyoung looked over to the window in San’s room, and stared out into the pitch darkness still pressing against the glass. In their haste, they'd forgotten to draw the curtains, so now that Wooyoung was awake, he could easily tell it was still night, perhaps approaching the dawn, but not yet time for the sun to peak. Shadows were cast across the room, silence lingering in every space except San’s infrequent hums while he slept. Wooyoung kept close to him, safe and protected as long as they were touching.

Alone with his thoughts, Wooyoung couldn't help but finally begin to comprehend what had happened last night. He and San kissed. He and San slept together. He remembered San telling him once that he loved to sleep cuddling something, whether a pillow, plushie or a person. They'd slept in the same bed before, so he knew for a fact that it was true. San wrapped him up like a bundle and refused to let go, making Wooyoung’s heart do all sorts of acrobatics. But last night had a different context. They were intimate, and San’s refusal to let him go sunk deeper, rooted into his bloodstream. Because Wooyoung was clingy too; he liked to be held. He couldn't help but think that San really was his missing puzzle piece. He wondered if San had been as affectionate with Dongpyo after they had sex, practically attempting to fuse themselves together.

He quickly shook that line of thought from his head. Because that wasn't fair on San. He was allowed to have been with people in the past, as Wooyoung had, and he had no right to feel slighted for it. San had no obligation to share any of the details with him, and had no obligation to act any differently with Wooyoung than he did with Dongpyo. If Wooyoung was going to constantly compare himself to Dongpyo, he shouldn't make San a part of it, since it wasn't his doing. He was being unfair and spiteful and his head hurt. Because no matter how much he recognised that his insecurities should not bleed onto San, since they had nothing to do with him, he still couldn't help but worry. San had been with the man of his dreams before. Dongpyo was powerful, talented, capable, kind and unique. He was the chosen one, set to save Sector 1 and the world. San had craved extraordinary once, desired Dongpyo above all others. If they got together, he knew that he would eternally feel like his second choice, that San was settling for him because he couldn't have Dongpyo. Wooyoung couldn't help but doubt that he could ever really accept being with ordinary, after he’d had extraordinary.

Wooyoung was just Wooyoung. Just a guy. Surely it wouldn't be long before San would get bored of him and his mundane life. San surrounded himself with superheroes all the time, was used to the miraculous things they could do, their drive and determination, their skills and important issues and problems. Wooyoung was a bartender whose biggest issue most months was wondering if he could afford to get the expensive washing up liquid. He was sure that if he and San gave a relationship a shot, it wouldn't be long before San would tire of him, get bored with his quotidian daily life opposed to his own excitement and adventure with their friends and other city superheroes. If San was going to have a partner, shouldn't he choose someone who wasn't going to disappoint him, let him down? Someone who didn't fall short, who forced San to bring everything to the relationship while he just coasted along. Because there wasn't really anything Wooyoung could especially do. Sure, he could cook and pour drinks as well as the next person, but it wasn't anything special. There was no way that San could be proud to have him standing by his side. He was nought but a shadow behind San’s bright, shining light. He wasn't impressive like a superhero or even a human with a unique, personal skill. He wasn't even angelically pretty and ethereal like Dongpyo. He was a downgrade, a failure in judgement.

His heart felt like a stone in his chest, scratching against his skin and bones. He dug his nails into the palms of his hands, leaving little indents behind. He was so happy the night before that he completely forgot to think about how nothing he was doing was fair to San. He was being selfish, chasing after his own desires and not thinking about what would be best for the man he was in love with. The beautiful, kind, sweet - if sometimes ditsy - (Wooyoung had seen him whack his forehead with a bread roll once, and his guy had superpowers!) - man that he was endlessly, devotedly in love with. Wooyoung’s throat was dry, and a pressure was building up behind his eyes that he quickly had to extinguish. Nothing about the situation was fair to San. What had he done?

The solid body next to him stirred, making Wooyoung jolt in surprise. His heart was racing as he composed himself, inhaling and exhaling to clear his mind and expression of his congested concerns. They weren't for San to deal with. He plastered a smile on his face as he watched San stretch and cutely blink his eyes open, momentarily looking dazed and confused before he finally recognised where he was. Wooyoung’s smile was easy when he gazed at him, softness etched into his features so naturally. When San’s eyes passed over Wooyoung below him, a matching smile made its way across his own lips, and Wooyoung’s chest pinched in delight and guilt and, despite himself, hope. “Hmm, good morning,” San mumbled, closing his eyes again momentarily.

Wooyoung giggled, genuine and content as it always was in San’s presence. “Good morning, a good very early morning.”

San nodded into his pillow, seconds stretching on calmly until a furrow grew between his eyebrows and confusion spread across his expression. Wooyoung just watched him silently, intrigued. San’s eyes shot open in sudden realisation, a blinding grin illuminating him, and then he was scrambling to sit up, jostling Wooyoung who yelped as he fell off of San and onto the mattress. “San-ah!”

San giggled, launching himself into the middle of the room and looking back at Wooyoung expectantly. “Sorry, sorry! But you need to get dressed. I want to show you something before it's too late.”

He started pulling the clothes he had worn the night before on, while Wooyoung watched from the bed, perplexed. While San fought with his socks, he decided that he'd always trusted San, so he may as well go with it. The cold air pinched his skin as he stood, so he imitated San in pulling his clothes back on as quickly as he could. Once they were both dressed, San took his hand and dragged him through his flat and out the door, down the stairs and out of the building into the cold night air. Despite themselves, despite that Wooyoung had no idea where he was going, the heaviness in his chest lifted the way it always did when he was goofy with San. They both giggled and San pulled Wooyoung down the street.

It was still dark out, the roads abandoned, so late that even the streetlights had gone out. But San walked the paths with confidence, and Wooyoung gathered that it was a journey intimately familiar to him. His body was weightless as he allowed himself to be directed along, putty in San’s hands.

They stopped in front of one of the tallest office buildings in the neighbourhood. With the lights off and doors securely locked, the place was only a little bit eerie. Wooyoung turned to San questioningly, but all the other man did was beam at him and open his arms wide, inviting Wooyoung in for a hug. Like he was on motorised tracks pulling him in San’s direction, Wooyoung fell against him with little protest. San wiggled happily when Wooyoung was in his grip, tightening his hold around his waist. “Hold tight around my neck,” San instructed and Wooyoung followed without further thought.

However, once he was holding him securely, their fronts pressed firmly together with no room for air to get through, the air left Wooyoung’s lungs as they gradually began to ascend upwards. The ground disappeared from beneath Wooyoung’s feet and everything became instantly less stable, the knowledge that his body was made of solid matter becoming less of a sure fact. He squealed, uncaring of waking anyone up or being spotted floating in the early hours. He could only react to his shock. “San!” He screamed.

“Shh, I've got you,” San soothed as he raised them higher, the air whooshing past them and absence of gravity making Wooyoung’s head spin.

Reality finally crashed down on him like a stone brick. “San, your mask-” Because what if he was spotted? He'd reveal himself as a superhero!

San giggled quietly under his breath. “It's okay, I've done this loads of times and never gotten caught. I may need you to be a little quieter, though.”

Wooyoung slapped his lips shut and whimpered, pressing himself into San’s sturdy chest. He was looking upwards, towards the roof of the building above, the ledge rapidly drawing closer. Wooyoung took the last few moments to let it sink in that he was really flying. San took him flying. It was so hard to stop himself from shaking. The world below grew smaller and smaller, more and more insignificant as he and San ascended upwards. It was like the street below became a little doll world, fabricated and easily moldable into whatever Wooyoung saw fit. He trembled.

They reached the roof of the office building, and San lowered them down gently on the little walkway on the top. When his feet touched solid ground again, Wooyoung’s legs were shaking. He had to keep clutching onto San so that he didn't fall down in some undignified heap. He felt the rumble of San’s laughter through his chest, so he lightly whacked his arm to make him stop. He wasn't successful, but it did spur San to manoeuvre them to sit down just a little way back from the edge. His heart was racing in his chest, but once they were settled, Wooyoung could appreciate the view. The high-rises surrounding the building they were on were all smaller, so he could look down and see their roofs stretching on into the distance. The wind tousled his hair. They were so high up, so far away from the problems below.

San swung his arm over Wooyoung’s shoulders and pulled him against his side, and Wooyoung burrowed into the space. He was being selfish again, taking and taking. But when he glanced up at San’s carefree, relaxed expression, his worries flew to the back of his mind momentarily. “I love coming up here,” San explained softly. “For that.”

He took Wooyoung’s chin in between his thumb and forefinger, and twisted his head around so he was looking back over the city, to the east. Ever so gradually, unrushed and magnificent, a warm amber light began to flutter up from behind some of the furthest buildings. Wooyoung gasped. Together, silently, they watched the sun breach the sky, illuminating Sector 1 below, its rays pouring over each crevice and cranny like magical dust. Wooyoung’s mouth was open in awe, and he leaned his full weight onto San. They sat in silence until the sun was well and truly on its trajectory to begin the morning properly, and the dark shapes creating their city became better defined in the light. “Wow,” Wooyoung breathed out, the first sound between them in so long breaking something precariously held together.

“Yeah,” San replied softly into his ear. “I wanted to show you that, since it's been a special place for me ever since I learnt about it. I like to come up here to clear my head and make sense of things. And since it's where I always find clarity, I thought it would be the perfect place to ask you to be my boyfriend.”

The world stopped for a moment and then every fact and feeling caught up with Wooyoung at once. The problems from the ground were suddenly up here with him, making him dizzy and aware of how high up he was, how easy it would be to topple over the edge and plummet back down to the cold, hard concrete below. Because wasn't this everything Wooyoung has ever desired and been terrified of at the same time? Accepting San’s offer would settle an eternal longing within him, bring him joy and happiness. But it would also bring anxieties, the sensation of being stuck on a precipice until San would inevitably realise that Wooyoung wasn't good enough and leave him behind. It was a waiting game for heartbreak, and Wooyoung didn't think he'd be able to handle it once he'd finally had a taste of his dreams. It would break him. And he was maybe realising now that this is what was causing him to explode, that Yeosang’s worries were well-founded after all.

San must have seen something panicked and apprehensive in his expression, because he was quickly shuffling away from Wooyoung as if he'd just been burnt. Wooyoung felt the coldness creep in without his body heat against him, so he twirled around so that he was facing San, each of them sitting cross-legged in front of each other. “Unless you don't want to,” San rushed out. The pain and devastation in San’s eyes caused the agony in Wooyoung’s chest to swell worse than ever, and he quickly made a decision.

He shuffled closer to San, who was sitting as still as a statue, jaw clenched in grief, wetness building up in the pools of his eyes. Wooyoung moved forwards until his knees were resting on top of San’s, and he was leaning in close to his space so his words had no danger of missing him. Because no matter how his own feelings might be torn to shreds, Wooyoung would not leave San feeling as if he wasn't wanted. He needed to make that clear. “No,” he said firmly. “I do want to. I want to be your boyfriend more than anything.” San turned back to him, surprise and hope flashing across his features, mouth parted in his shock. “But-” Wooyoung paused, knowing he was going to have to push through his fears for San’s sake. “Are you sure?”

San tilted his head in pure, utter confusion, staring so deep into Wooyoung’s soul that he almost shattered. It was like San was peeling back every single layer with expert precision, with Wooyoung spread out over the operating table. He reached forward and took Wooyoung’s hands in his own, resting them comfortably on his lap. “Of course I'm sure, why wouldn't I be? I'm in love with you, why wouldn't I want you to be my boyfriend?”

Wooyoung’s breath hitched. It couldn't be true, could it? But San had never lied to him a day in his life since they'd known each other. There was never any dishonesty between them. So, could it be real? San loved him? Wooyoung? Him?

“You love me?”

San nodded, like everything was simple and easy and perfect. Like they had nothing to be concerned about. “I do. I think I've always loved you, from the first moment we met. My dad always told me it was you, from the very beginning.” San laughed, a little self-deprecating. “It took me way too long to realise he was right. But he was. It's alway been you, Woo. I never would have been happy with anyone else.”

Wooyoung was shaking, spiralling. Dangling in front of him was everything Wooyoung could want, San, a family, and yet he still didn't trust himself to reach out and take it. Because no matter how deep his desires ran, it didn't mean he was deserving of them, it didn't mean he'd ever be right in choosing to take them up. “I love you, too,” he still had to say. Because if they were both going to leave this rooftop heartbroken, San had to know his love was true, ever-lasting.

San shook his head, an encouraging, soft little nod. “Then what's the problem? Hmm?” He was gentle as he cupped Wooyoung’s cheek, catching the stray tear that had somehow escaped from the corner of his eye. He leaned so close that their foreheads were almost touching again, but left enough space so that they could still look at each other. Within San’s light of sight, nothing else mattered but him, but them together.

Wooyoung allowed himself to cry, chest shaking with a sob. “Because you make me feel special whenever I'm with you, so special that I forget about everything else. You make me feel so special that I forget that I'm not. Not even close.”

San shook his head from side to side, bewildered and aghast. “What do you mean? You are special. So, so special. You're my Wooyoung. My other half, the person that matches me in every way. I couldn't imagine a life in which you're not by my side.”

“But I'm not a good fit for you. I'm ordinary. My life is normal. How can we fit together when I don’t compare to you or the people around you or anyone, really? I've never done anything great, nothing to prove I'm enough for you. I'll never be enough for you.” Wooyoung shut his eyes to try and blink the large droplets of tears from his eyes, and to try and calm the excess of sobs spilling from his mouth. It was like his heart had just been torn from his chest, and he was left sprawled out and open for inspection and derision. He held onto San’s hand, the one not caressing his face still, which was grounding and preventing him from crashing to his death. Selfish, Wooyoung was so, so selfish.

Eventually, when the tears became manageable, he blinked his eyes back open and braced himself for San’s reaction, expecting the worst. Expecting the slow realisation that Wooyoung was right, for San to agree that Wooyoung really wasn't the best person for him. When his eyes did open, however, he was not expecting to find the same tears pouring down San’s cheeks, and a pit of devastation to have formed across his face. It was a chasm deeper and more wretched than any expression he'd ever seen on San, and he'd been with him through a lot in his superhero career. Wooyoung’s chest leaped again, and his breaths released in shaky exhales.

“How could you say that?” San asked in a soft whisper, in disbelief. “How can you believe that? Is it because you don’t have superpowers like me and the guys and Dongpyo and that? Because Eunha, her father, my father, and even your friend Youngsoo don't have any powers and I would never hear you say that they're not worthy of being around me or people with superpowers.”

Wooyoung shook his head adamantly. “No, it's not that.” He scoffed a laugh, still teary and broken-hearted. “It's just me.”

“Woo, listen to me. You're everything. You're the light in my life and the air that I breathe. I'm sorry it took me so long to realise I love you, that you had to watch me stumble my way through other infatuations and-”

“You have nothing to apologise for.”

San shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. But it doesn't change how I feel about you. You're everything to me and perfectly more than enough, whatever that means. I can be myself around you, I love hearing about your job and your friends and doing nothing but watching shows with you or going out to tourist attractions or whatever. You've done nothing but make my life better ever since you've stepped foot in it. Do you think our friendship group would be as close as they are without you? Absolutely not. You made us a family. You cook for us and bandage our wounds all the time. Do you think Yeosang would have a best friend like you to confide in and bring him out of his shell if you didn't exist? Maybe, I don't know, but he chose you because he’s comfortable with you. You help a single father take care of his daughter and ask for nothing in return; his daughter who adores you and looks up to you. Because you matter to the people in your life, Woo. And I want to be your boyfriend because I already know you'll be perfect for me. You don’t have to prove anything. I'll spend the remainder of my days telling you that you're enough for me, that you're all I could ever ask for. All you have to do is exist with me, and I'll be the happiest person alive. Because I'll have my Wooyoung. My Wooyoung.”

San was holding his face in between both of his palms as Wooyoung cried. Sobs wracked his body harder than ever before, and he clutched onto San’s arms to hold onto something, to stop himself from floating away.

“Come here, baby,” San beckoned before pulling Wooyoung onto his lap. Wooyoung straddled him and pressed himself close to San’s warmth, letting the comfort seep into him, lulling him into a state of complete relief and euphoria. San’s hands remained on his face, peppering his cheeks and forehead with kisses as he shushed him. Wooyoung looped his arms back around San’s neck, and allowed himself to fall into him. “My Wooyoung. My love, my baby, my beautiful Wooyoung. I'm yours, your San, always have been.”

It took Wooyoung a while to stop crying, and when he did he had to rest his forehead against San’s to relax, having utterly exhausted himself. San held the back of his neck in place, soothing his fingers through his hair. When Wooyoung pulled back to look at him, at his hopeful, devoted, adoring expression, his heart skipped a beat, and San wiped the tears from below his eyes. “So please,” San continued. “Will you be mine? And make me yours? Be my boyfriend?”

And Wooyoung broke. He ascended, untethered, entrusting his heart and soul to San’s care, taking his in his palms in return, promising to cherish it forever. “Yes,” he whispered, closing his eyes once more. “Yes, I'll be yours. I'll be your boyfriend.”

He felt San’s grin against his lips as San, his boyfriend, leant in to kiss him. It was soft, purposeful, full of love and everything Wooyoung hoped it would ever be. He drank San in, pulling him closer and deepening their kiss. San followed him, holding him tight, like he was never letting go.

Maybe Wooyoung had more work to do to come to terms with his reality, to believe everything that San told him was true. His boyfriend was patient, but Wooyoung had no doubt that he was going to put in the work.

San loved him. San loved him.

“I love you,” he breathed, and San kissed him again.

“I love you, too. So much, Woo. You have no idea.”

Perhaps one day Wooyoung would have an inkling. He was already beginning to understand. As San pressed love into his skin, Wooyoung was set free, soaring.

Because maybe he never had to achieve anything to be worthy of love, deserving of being loved. He was enough, just by himself, all along.

Fin.