Up in the Sky

Zhong Chenle always thought he had terrible luck. Or maybe, just maybe, the universe really liked messing with him because every time he got caught in an explosion, a collapsing building, or a building on fire, Superman was there to save him.

What Chenle doesn’t know is that the quiet, awkward reporter sitting next to him at work, Lee Jeno, the one who blushes too easily and laughs at all his bad jokes, is the same man who keeps swooping in from the sky.

Between late nights in the newsroom, shy smiles over coffee, and a secret identity that threatens to tear them apart, falling in love might be the most dangerous thing Jeno’s ever done.

Because saving the world is easy.
Saving the person you love from yourself? That’s the hard part.

Notes:

Of course I'm writing Superman!Jeno. Fueled by pure delusion.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Zhong Chenle was starting to think he had a problem.

Not the kind you fix with therapy or a vacation, but the kind that involved near death experiences and one particular man in a red cape.

The sky over Seoul darkened without warning, clouds swirling fast, as if a storm were being born out of nowhere. The air crackled, charged with static that raised the tiny hairs on Chenle’s arms.

Then came the light.

A blinding streak ripped across the sky. It screamed downward and struck the monorail line just a few blocks away.

The explosion that followed was deafening. Metal shrieked. Sparks cascaded through the air. Chenle froze where he stood on the nearby bridge, camera still raised, heart thundering in his ears as burning debris rained down into the river below.

People screamed. Glass shattered.

Chenle kept filming. Years of experience made his hands steady, even as the bridge shook beneath him. This was his job, after all. Zhong Chenle, senior field reporter for The Daily Planet Seoul Bureau. Known for getting too close to danger and somehow walking away with perfect footage.

Then the sound came. A high, metallic groan. The last cable of the damaged monorail snapped. The train car swung down toward the street, straight in his direction.

“Oh god… not again,” he breathed, half in disbelief, half in fear.

There was a rush of wind. The air cracked like thunder.

Superman.

Red cape cutting through the smoke. He caught the falling train with one arm and braced it against the bridge, muscles straining as steel screamed around him.

Chenle froze. He had seen him from afar before, just flashes of red in the sky, or through a grainy lens on a live feed. But never like this.

Superman was close enough for him to see the soot on his cheek, the soft curl of dark hair falling over his brow. His eyes were calm and sharp as they swept over the wreck before landing on Chenle.

For a second, the world went silent.

Chenle swallowed hard, his camera still rolling. “Thank you,” he said, voice uneven.

Superman’s mouth curved slightly, almost a smile. “You have terrible luck.”

“Or good luck,” Chenle replied. “Depends on how you look at it.”

Superman lowered the train carefully, making sure the passengers were safe. Then he stepped closer, close enough that Chenle could feel the wind shift.

“You should get clear,” Superman said. His voice was warm, steady, but softer than Chenle expected. “The structure isn’t stable.”

Chenle’s pulse raced. He nodded. “Right. Reporter instincts. Not always smart ones.”

Superman’s eyes lingered on him for a moment longer. Then he lifted off the ground. In a blink, he was gone.

Chenle stared at the empty sky. He exhaled slowly and lowered his camera.

“Every single time,” he murmured. “What’s next, saving me from a vending machine accident?”

He laughed quietly to himself, brushing dust from his blazer. But as he replayed the footage in his mind, something felt different this time.

For the first time, Superman hadn’t just been a headline or a blur in the distance. He had looked right at him. Spoke to him.

And Chenle couldn’t shake the strange feeling that he had seen those eyes somewhere before.

The newsroom was already alive when Chenle walked in. Phones ringing, editors arguing over headlines, printers spitting out drafts faster than anyone could read them.

He set his bag down with a sigh, his shoulder still sore from yesterday’s mess on the bridge. “Morning,” he said to no one in particular.

“Morning?” Haechan echoed from across the bullpen, looking way too awake for this hour. “You mean survived, right? I saw the bridge footage. Dude, are you trying to win a Darwin Award?”

“Good to see you too, Haechan,” Chenle muttered.

“Don’t listen to him,” Jaemin said from behind his camera, adjusting the lens. “He’s just mad you got the better headline.”

“I’m mad,” Haechan said, pointing, “because my expose on city corruption got bumped for another ‘Superman saves Seoul’ piece. Again. I’m starting to think the guy’s your PR agent.”

Mark, their editor, appeared with a mug of coffee that looked more like sludge. “If Superman saves you again, Chenle, we’re putting him on the payroll.”

Jisung peeked over his monitor. “Do you think Superman reads the Daily Planet?”

Renjun didn’t look up from sketching layout drafts. “If he does, he probably hates the fonts.”

Mark sighed. “Can everyone, for five minutes, pretend we’re a professional newsroom and not a daycare?”

“Yes, boss,” Haechan said sweetly. “But if Chenle dies again, I’m taking his snack drawer.”

“That’s cruel,” Jisung mumbled. “He has the good chips.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “Get to work, people.”

The chaos resumed, printers whirring, phones ringing, the hum of caffeine and deadlines.

That’s when a quiet voice drifted from the next desk.

“Morning,” came a quiet reply.

Jeno looked up from his computer, glasses slipping slightly down his nose. His workspace was neat, organized, and far too calm compared to the chaos around him.

“You survived,” Jeno said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “That’s good.”

“Barely.” Chenle grinned. “You should’ve seen it. Monorail hanging, smoke everywhere, people screaming. Superman saved me… again.”

“Again?” Jeno asked, pretending to sound surprised. “You should start a punch card or something. ‘Ten rescues, one free latte.’”

Chenle laughed, dropping into his chair. “You joke, but I think he’s getting tired of me.”

“I think anyone would,” Jeno said softly, smiling into his monitor.

Chenle threw a pen cap at him. “Hey!”

It bounced off Jeno’s shoulder. He looked up, cheeks pink, and shrugged. “Just saying. You attract trouble.”

“Comes with the job,” Chenle said, plopping into his chair. “Danger makes good headlines.”

Jeno typed something on his keyboard, but his eyes flicked toward Chenle’s arm, where the bandage peeked out from under his sleeve. “You should still be careful,” he said quietly.

Chenle smiled at him. “You sound like my mom.”

“I’m just saying.”

“I know. Thanks.”

They worked in silence for a while, the soft tapping of keys filling the space between them.

After a few minutes, Chenle leaned back, watching Jeno.

He wasn’t exactly new. He’d been with the paper for about two years now. Still, somehow, Chenle didn’t know much about him. Jeno was always there, quietly working beside him, offering help, sharing snacks, listening when Chenle needed to complain about deadlines. Dependable, kind, easy to talk to.

Chenle had thought about asking him to hang out before, but work always got in the way. There was always another story, another lead, another interview.

Now, after almost being crushed by a monorail, it felt stupid to keep waiting.

He glanced at Jeno again, his heart beating a little faster than he expected. Maybe it was just leftover adrenaline. Maybe it wasn’t.

His gaze lingered on Jeno’s eyes. They were calm, soft, but steady. The kind of eyes that made people feel safe. Something about them felt… familiar. He couldn’t quite place it, but there was a warmth there that stirred something in him.

He blinked the thought away. Probably nothing.

Ah, whatever, he thought. I nearly died again. What’s the worst that could happen?

“Hey,” Chenle said suddenly, spinning his chair toward him. “You got lunch plans?”

Jeno blinked. “Lunch?”

“Yeah. You, me, actual food. Something decent for once.”

“Oh.” Jeno’s fingers hovered over his keyboard. “Sure. Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Good.” Chenle grinned. “It’s a date.”

Jeno froze. “A… a date?”

Chenle laughed, waving him off. “Relax, I’m joking… Kind of.”

The moment Chenle stood up from his desk and stretched, Haechan’s head popped up like a meerkat.

“Where are you going? It’s barely noon.”

“Lunch,” Chenle said, grabbing his coat. “With Jeno.”

“Oh?” Haechan’s grin was instant. “With Jeno?”

Mark looked up from his office, groaning. “Please tell me this isn’t another one of your field date disasters, Chenle.”

“It’s not a date,” Jeno said quickly, adjusting his glasses, already pink in the face.

“Sure,” Jaemin drawled, not looking up from his computer.

Renjun, sipping his coffee, didn’t even look up. “Don’t toy with him, guys. They’re just bonding. It’s called workplace camaraderie.” Then, after a beat, “Although, statistically speaking, workplace romances rarely end well.”

Jisung piped up from his desk, blinking innocently. “Wait, are you guys actually dating?”

Chenle turned with a grin. “Not yet.”

Jeno nearly dropped his phone. “Chenle!”

The newsroom erupted.

Haechan clapped loudly. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a confession!”

“Get back before deadline,” Mark barked, but there was no real bite in it.

Chenle just saluted. “Yes, boss!”

As they stepped out of the office, Haechan shouted after them, “Bring back dessert!”

Later, they ended up at a tiny restaurant a few blocks away. The owner recognized Chenle immediately from TV and gave them an extra bowl of soup for luck.

Chenle did most of the talking, telling stories about reckless interviews and newsroom chaos. Jeno listened, smiling, occasionally offering quiet comments that somehow made Chenle laugh harder than expected.

Halfway through lunch, Chenle caught Jeno staring. “What?” he asked, smiling.

“Nothing,” Jeno said quickly, shaking his head. “You just talk like you’re narrating something important.”

“That’s weird.”

“It’s true,” Jeno said. “You make ordinary things sound big.”

Chenle laughed softly, hiding his grin behind his glass of barley tea. “Guess that’s the reporter in me.”

“Maybe,” Jeno said. “Or maybe you just see things differently.”

For a moment, Chenle didn’t reply. The light hit Jeno’s face just right, and he suddenly noticed how gentle his smile was.

When they walked back to the office, their shoulders brushed once or twice. Neither said anything about it, but Chenle caught Jeno smiling quietly to himself.

And for the first time in weeks, Chenle’s mind wasn’t on Superman or breaking news.

It was on Jeno.

The morning was unusually loud, filled with the kind of chaos that always followed breaking news.

Chenle breezed in, bright as ever, camera bag slung over his shoulder, the smell of burnt coffee trailing after him.

At the front of the room, Mark, clapped his hands. “Alright, listen up. Superman stories are officially our top priority. And no one’s closer to the story than Chenle.”

A round of chuckles followed. Haechan called out, “Of course! He’s Seoul’s very own Superman magnet.”

Jaemin raised an eyebrow. “Magnet or menace? Half the city falls apart whenever he show up.”

“Occupational hazard,” Chenle shot back, grinning.

Renjun, not looking up from his fashion column drafts, added dryly, “Probably just karma for all those clickbait titles you write.”

“Hey,” Chenle said, pointing at him. “Those titles pull readers in.”

Haechan snorted. “Yeah, straight into the next disaster.”

The room laughed. Jeno smiled too, though it felt tight.

Maybe he had been showing up a little too often lately. If anyone started to notice how Superman always arrived just in time for Chenle, they might start asking questions.

Still, he brushed the thought aside. It wasn’t like anyone would really think Superman had a favorite person.
And even if they did, wasn’t it better this way? Better Chenle safe and alive, even if it meant a few people joked about it.

He exhaled quietly and focused on his notes.

“Yeah, well, you’ll be seeing more of him,” Mark said, flipping through his clipboard. “I’m assigning Jeno to partner with you full time on Superman coverage.”

Jeno looked up from his desk, pen frozen halfway through a note. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” Mark said briskly. “You’re level headed. He’s reckless. It balances out.”

“I—” Jeno hesitated, throat tightening. “I don’t think that’s necessary. Chenle’s already—”

“Overworked,” He interrupted. “You’ll help him manage it.”

“But I’m not really—”

“Jeno,” Mark’s tone was firm. “You’re his partner on this. That’s final.”

From across the room, Haechan grinned. “Ooh, desk partners turned field partners. I smell romance and trauma.”

“Mostly trauma,” Jaemin added.

“Not funny,” Chenle said, throwing a pen cap at him. It missed. Jaemin caught it midair.

Jeno’s mouth opened, then closed again. There was no point arguing. He forced a nod. “Understood.”

“Good,” Mark said, already turning toward another desk. “Try not to die out there, you two.”

“Encouraging,” Chenle muttered.

Jisung waved from the intern desk. “I’ll start your ‘Superman Watch’ board again!”

“Please don’t,” Jeno said quickly.

The room’s chatter resumed, a blur of ringing phones and laughter.

Chenle nudged Jeno’s arm, smirking. “Looks like we’re officially partners.”

Jeno smiled weakly, trying to mask the dread curling in his chest. “Yeah. Great news.”

But inside, his thoughts were spinning.

How am I supposed to cover Superman while being Superman?

If Chenle was always nearby, every rescue would risk everything. Every lie, every excuse, another chance for him to slip.

He swallowed hard. This is going to be impossible.

By the second week, “impossible” had somehow become routine.

They spent their days chasing leads, following tip offs about Superman sightings, interviewing witnesses, and answering press calls, then spent their nights buried in drafts under the soft hum of desk lamps.

It wasn’t so bad, Jeno had to admit.

Chenle worked fast, thought faster, and smiled like he didn’t know how to stop. He’d lean too close to show Jeno a photo, talk with his hands, laugh until he had to cover his mouth. And sometimes, when exhaustion finally caught up with him, his energy softened into something quieter, a kind of stillness that pulled Jeno in without meaning to.

He’d watch him sometimes, the glow from the monitor tracing faint gold along Chenle’s cheekbones, the small crease between his brows when he focused, the way his lips parted slightly when he read aloud. It was dangerous, how easily ordinary moments with him started to feel like something more.

“Still awake?” Jeno asked one night, glancing up from his notes.

Chenle was dozing against his chair, one hand tangled in his hair. “Barely,” he mumbled. “If I close my eyes, I’m gone.”

Jeno smiled faintly. “Then sleep.”

“Can’t. Deadline.”

“I’ll finish the draft.”

Chenle cracked one eye open, lips curving into a lazy smile. “You’d do that?”

“I already do half your editing,” Jeno teased, trying to sound casual.

Chenle laughed softly, the sound small and warm in the quiet room. “You’re too nice. You’ll spoil me.”

Jeno’s cheeks warmed. “You’re already spoiled.”

Their eyes met for a second, long enough for something unspoken to spark between them, too brief to name. Chenle yawned and turned away, muttering something about headlines, but the air didn’t quite settle again.

Jeno looked back at his screen, pretending to type. But his pulse was still racing long after, and when Chenle’s breathing evened out beside him, soft and steady, Jeno found himself smiling into the glow of his half finished draft.

It became their rhythm, marked by quiet nights, unspoken things, and laughter that lingered a little too long.

It started in little moments.

Like Jeno making sure Chenle always had coffee ready when he came in late. Chenle saving him the last pastry from the break room. Their desks had grown closer somehow, papers spilling into each other’s space until neither cared whose was whose.

And every time Chenle went out on assignment, Jeno’s stomach knotted a little tighter.

When news of a car pile up broke downtown, Chenle had grabbed his camera without hesitation. “I’ll go check it out!”

“Wait,” Jeno stood so fast his chair toppled. “That area isn’t safe yet.”

Chenle was already slinging his camera over his shoulder. “It’s news, Jeno. It’s supposed to be unsafe.”

“That’s not funny.”

“I’ll stay behind the line,” Chenle said, brushing him off.

“You said that last time,” Jeno snapped, sharper than he meant.

Chenle froze, turning to him with a stubborn tilt of his chin. “And I got the shots that made the front page.”

“That’s not the point.”

“It is to me.” He forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You worry too much.”

“I have reason to,” Jeno muttered under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” He swallowed down the rest, the words he couldn’t say, because you keep scaring me like that. “Just… be careful.”

Chenle grinned, already halfway out the door. “I always am.”

Jeno didn’t believe that for a second.

When Chenle returned to the newsroom later that evening, it was already buzzing again, the usual chaos. But as soon as he walked in, Haechan looked up with a smirk that spelled trouble.

“Well, well,” Haechan said, spinning lazily in his chair. “Back from another near death adventure. Tell me, did Jeno text you to check if you made it back alive, or is he still pretending it’s purely professional concern?”

Chenle paused mid step, pretending to look confused. “What are you talking about?”

Jaemin snorted without looking up from his screen. “Please. You two have been orbiting each other like satellites for weeks. The entire office’s betting pool is just waiting for one of you to confess.”

“There’s a betting pool?” Chenle said, incredulous.

“Yeah,” Jaemin said. “I put fifty on you making the first move.”

Renjun walked by carrying proofs. “You’re wasting your money. Jeno’s the type to accidentally confess while helping him proofread an article.”

“Exactly!” Haechan said. “They’ll be editing at midnight, staring into each other’s eyes over comma placement—”

“—and then he’ll faint,” Jaemin added dryly. “Classic slow burn.”

Chenle rolled his eyes, dropping his camera bag on his desk. “You’re all idots.”

“Idiots but accurate,” Haechan said, wiggling his brows. “You’re glowing, by the way. What’d he do, smile at you again?”

Chenle smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Maybe. You wouldn’t understand.”

Jaemin finally glanced up, grinning. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Of course I am,” Chenle said, unapologetically smug. “If I’m getting teased for having good taste, I’ll take it.”

Renjun sighed from across the room. “Can we not flirt during work hours?”

“Define work hours,” Haechan said.

Renjun raised a brow. “Any hour you’re breathing.”

That got a laugh out of Chenle. He spun once in his chair, still grinning to himself. “You guys are ridiculous.”

“Sure,” Jaemin said. “But we’re not wrong.”

Chenle only smirked, glancing toward Jeno’s empty desk. “We’ll see.”

It was always like that, with Chenle rushing forward and Jeno pulling back, both pretending not to notice how hard it was to let go.

The first time it happened, Jeno almost slipped.

They were covering an interview by the Han River when the sound of metal snapping tore through the air.

The ground trembled.

Across the river, one of the suspension bridge cables had split clean in two. The steel recoiled like a whip, sparks flying as a section of the bridge sagged dangerously. Cars screeched to a halt. A tourist boat below tried to turn, but the current kept pulling it toward the collapsing structure.

Chenle’s camera was already up. “Oh my god—”

The second cable snapped.

The bridge buckled with a thunderous crack, the middle section starting to give way. Screams erupted as vehicles tilted toward the river.

Chenle’s instincts kicked in immediately. He grabbed his camera, running toward the railing for a better view. “Go get help! I'll get the footage!”

“Chenle, wait!” Jeno’s heart lurched as he watched him climb onto the barrier, camera lens glinting in the sun. “That bridge could collapse any second!”

“I can see from here!” Chenle shouted back, voice breathless, focused.

Jeno clenched his jaw, his gaze darted toward the maintenance stairs under the bridge, half hidden by a railing, already feeling the familiar rush of wind building in his veins. “I’ll… I’ll check for emergency crews.”

A second later, the air changed.

It wasn’t just wind. It was a surge, a pulse that made the ground hum beneath Chenle’s feet. His breath caught as a sharp gust whipped past him, ruffling his hair and sending papers and camera straps fluttering.

He didn’t see where it came from. He only felt it. A sudden rush, like someone powerful had just cut through the world.

Then, above the water, a streak of red and blue broke through the clouds.

Superman.

He shot past the river’s surface, wind exploding in his wake, and braced himself beneath the collapsing span. Metal screamed as he caught the bridge from underneath, arms locking against thousands of tons of concrete and steel.

For a moment, it looked impossible. The weight drove him down, water spraying up around his boots. But then, inch by inch, the bridge steadied. Cars slid back into place. The boat escaped the falling debris by meters.

Chenle kept filming. The camera trembled in his hands as Superman forced the structure back into balance, jaw clenched, cape thrashing in the smoke.

When it was finally over, Superman looked up, just once, scanning the crowd. For a fleeting second, Chenle thought he was looking right at him.

And then he was gone, vanishing into the sky as if he’d never been there.

About a few minutes later, Jeno came jogging up from the side street, a faint sheen of sweat on his neck. His hair was slightly mussed, his tie crooked, somehow, he still looked infuriatingly calm.

“You okay?” he asked quickly, eyes scanning Chenle’s face like he needed to be sure.

Chenle nodded, still catching his breath. “Yeah. You just missed him again.”

Jeno let out a soft laugh, relief slipping into his smile. “My timing’s terrible.”

For a moment, the chaos around them faded, just the two of them standing there.

They worked in silence later that night, the newsroom nearly empty.

Chenle leaned back, stretching. “You know, I think I’m starting to believe Superman has a tracking device on me.”

Jeno blinked. “A what?”

“I’m serious. Every time I’m anywhere near danger, he shows up like clockwork.”

Jeno froze, pen stilling in his hand.

Chenle chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s kind of flattering, honestly. Like having my own personal guardian angel.”

Jeno’s throat tightened. “Something like that.”

Chenle tilted his head. “You’re not gonna tell me to be careful this time?”

Jeno looked at him quietly for a moment. “You already know I want you to be.”

The words hung in the air, soft and unguarded.

Chenle smiled faintly, pretending not to feel the heat rising to his cheeks. “Yeah. I know.”

He turned back to his screen, typing aimlessly, heart beating too fast for no reason he wanted to admit.

Maybe it was the adrenaline. Maybe it was exhaustion.

But every time Jeno looked at him that way, with eyes full of worry and a voice low and warm, Chenle felt something shift inside him.

Something that had nothing to do with Superman or his life in danger.

Three days later, a warehouse fire broke out in Gangnam. The paper sent Jeno and Chenle to cover it.

By the time they arrived, chaos had already taken over. Fire trucks lined the street, water arcing high into the air. Chenle had his camera out before they even crossed the police tape.

“This angle’s too close,” Jeno said, voice tight. “Stay back.”

Chenle didn’t listen. “We need visuals! You go around, get a quote from the fire chief!”

Jeno grabbed his wrist before he could run forward. “Chenle.” His tone softened. “Please. Just… don’t go too near the line.”

Chenle blinked, thrown off by how serious he sounded. “Alright,” he said quietly.

Jeno hesitated for a moment longer, then forced a nod and turned away, disappearing around the corner of the street.

Chenle exhaled and lifted his camera again. He focused through the smoke just in time to catch it, a streak of red cutting across the sky.

Superman.

The crowd gasped as Superman dropped straight into the blaze, heat rippling around him. In seconds, he tore through a collapsing wall and carried two firefighters out, unharmed.

Chenle snapped photo after photo, adrenaline flooding through him. Every time he saw Superman in action, it felt like the first time all over again. The same awe. The same flutter in his chest he couldn’t explain.

Even from a distance, Chenle saw Superman pause, his gaze scanning the crowd. It lingered somewhere near Chenle’s lens, just long enough to make him forget to breathe, before the hero launched back into the sky.

And minutes later, Jeno came running from the opposite direction, breathing hard, hair slightly mussed.

“Sorry,” he said. “The fire chief’s side entrance was blocked. Did you get the shots?”

Chenle grinned, still catching his breath. “Yeah. He saved two firefighters.”

“That’s good,” Jeno said softly, relief flickering across his features before he masked it. “Let’s head back.”

As they walked toward the car, Chenle stole a glance at the quiet steadiness in his expression.

Something about it felt… familiar. But he brushed the thought aside.

It happened again a week later.

A chemical plant accident had broken out in Yeouido. There was a massive leak, and an emergency evacuation was underway. Jeno and Chenle were already nearby, covering a press conference when the alarms sounded.

“Come on,” Chenle said, grabbing his mic and racing toward the chaos.

“Chenle, wait!” Jeno called, but his voice was lost in the noise. He clenched his jaw, glancing around quickly before ducking down a side alley.

By the time Chenle reached the plant gates, smoke and sparks filled the air. Workers were still trapped on the upper floors.

Then, as if the wind itself had shifted.

Superman.

People screamed in relief as he flew up the side of the building, breaking through glass to pull people to safety. Each movement was precise, powerful, almost unreal.

Chenle steadied the camera in his hands as he filmed, eyes wide. He couldn’t look away. Every time Superman carried someone down, every time his cape caught the light, something in Chenle’s chest tugged. It was a strange mix of admiration, gratitude, and something he didn’t want to name.

When the last person was safe, Superman landed briefly on a nearby rooftop to check the damage. For a fraction of a second, Chenle saw his face again, calm and familiar in a way he couldn’t place.

Then he was gone, vanishing into the smoke.

Moments later, Jeno stumbled toward him through the crowd, coughing, hair sticking to his forehead. “You okay?”

Chenle nodded, still a little dazed. “Yeah. He was just here.”

Jeno forced a smile. “Of course he was.”

“You missed him again,” Chenle said with a small laugh.

“Guess I’ll just have to trust your reporting.”

Chenle smiled, shaking his head. “You’re the worst journalist alive.”

“Maybe,” Jeno said softly, eyes lingering on him. “But I’m glad you’re safe.”

Chenle met his gaze, the noise of the crowd fading for a moment. His heart jumped, that same unexplainable flutter rushing back.

He told himself it was the adrenaline again. It had to be.

The newsroom had gone quiet for once. Most people had left after the nightly deadline.

Chenle sat at his desk, chin resting on one hand, eyes drooping. He had been editing their footage of Superman’s last rescue for hours.

Across the table, Jeno was watching him.

He wasn’t supposed to. He was supposed to be reviewing quotes, drafting the report, anything. But all he could focus on was how Chenle’s hair fell slightly over his eyes, or the way he bit his lip when he concentrated.

He looked tired, and Jeno’s heart twisted at the thought that he had almost gotten hurt again.

“Hey,” Jeno said quietly.

Chenle blinked, looking up. “Hm?”

“You should go home. It’s past one.”

Chenle groaned, stretching his arms. “Can’t. I want this done before morning. Besides,” he smirked, “you’re still here too.”

“I’m making sure you don’t fall asleep on the keyboard again,” Jeno said, smiling faintly.

“That happened once.”

“Twice.”

Chenle laughed, the sound soft and warm in the empty room. It echoed off the walls like music.

Jeno looked away quickly, pretending to fix a file. “You’re impossible,” he murmured.

“Yeah, but you like me.”

Jeno froze, blinking at him. “What?”

Chenle blinked too, realizing what he had said. “I mean, everyone likes me. I’m charming.”

“Right,” Jeno said, looking down again, ears turning red. “Charming.”

Days slipped by unnoticed.

Across the newsroom, Haechan was half asleep at his desk, an empty energy drink beside him. “If Superman doesn’t show up soon, I’m going to start saving people myself,” he muttered.

“Please don’t,” Mark said from behind his computer without looking up. “We can’t afford the insurance.”

Jaemin stifled a laugh. “You? You’d trip over your own ego before reaching the disaster site.”

Haechan threw a balled up sticky note at him. “At least I’d get the headline!”

“Headline would be ‘Local Reporter Causes Second Explosion,’” Renjun murmured, sketching fashion layouts at the next desk.

Even Jisung, still new and easily flustered, chuckled quietly as he stacked papers by the copier.

The sound of their banter faded into the hum of the newsroom, ordinary chaos that made the place feel alive.

At some point, Chenle kicked his shoes off and sat cross legged in his chair. Jeno made another round of coffee and set a cup beside him without a word. Chenle smiled, that small, unguarded smile that always made something in Jeno’s chest ache.

“Thanks,” he said. “You always take care of everyone, huh?”

Jeno shrugged. “Only the ones who forget to eat.”

“Then you must be really busy.”

He smiled, but there was something gentle in his tone that made Jeno look up. Their eyes met.

The air felt different again, thick with something neither of them could laugh off this time.

Chenle swallowed, suddenly aware of how close they were. “You’re… kind of mysterious, you know that?”

“Mysterious?” Jeno repeated.

“Yeah,” Chenle said, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “You disappear a lot. You never talk about yourself. Sometimes I look up and you’re just gone.”

Jeno’s pulse jumped. “I, uh… I get anxious in crowds.”

Chenle tilted his head, studying him. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Jeno said, forcing a laugh. “So if you can’t find me, I’m probably just hiding somewhere quiet.”

Chenle smiled faintly. “Guess that makes sense.”

He turned back to his screen, but his thoughts wandered. He didn’t quite believe Jeno, not because it sounded wrong, but because it didn’t explain everything. The disappearances. The timing.

But the moment passed, replaced by a comfortable silence.

By midnight, the others had filtered out one by one. Mark first, grumbling about deadlines. Renjun humming as he packed up. Jaemin dragging Haechan toward the elevators with Jisung yawning so hard he nearly walked into a filing cabinet.

Soon, the newsroom was empty except for two desks still lit under the dim glow of the monitors.

Chenle and Jeno.

Chenle stood by the window, watching the city stretch awake beneath a pale sunrise. The light spilled across his face, soft and golden.

Jeno walked up beside him, holding out another cup of coffee.

“Don’t tell me it’s black,” Chenle said, taking it anyway.

“Only slightly tragic this time,” Jeno said. “Half milk.”

Chenle smiled. “You’re learning.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the city quiet beneath them.

“You ever think,” Chenle started softly, “that maybe Superman gets tired of it?”

Jeno blinked. “Tired?”

“Yeah. Saving everyone all the time. Carrying all that weight. People think he’s invincible, but… he’s still a person, right?”

Jeno looked at him for a long moment before answering. “I think… he just wants to do the right thing. Even when it’s hard.”

“Sounds lonely,” Chenle said.

“Maybe it is.”

They both went quiet again, the hum of the city filling the space between them.

Chenle sipped his coffee, trying to ignore the way his heart was beating faster, or how the morning light caught in Jeno’s eyes.

He told himself it was exhaustion. Or adrenaline.

But when Jeno smiled, small and shy, Chenle forgot what he was supposed to tell himself at all.

It was supposed to be a simple assignment.

A corporate event around Jamsil, routine coverage, nothing risky.

Chenle joked about it the whole morning. “Finally, something that won’t try to kill me.”

Jeno didn’t laugh. He just smiled the way he always did when he was worried, small and tigh.

They arrived just before noon. Cameras flashed, journalists crowded the stage, executives droned on about innovation and the future. Chenle was bored halfway through the first speech.

“I’ll get some photos from the terrace,” he whispered to Jeno, slipping away before Jeno could stop him.

He should’ve known better.

The blast came out of nowhere, a thunderous boom that rattled the glass and threw the crowd into chaos. The floor lurched under his feet.

Chenle hit the ground hard, air knocked out of him. For a heartbeat, all he heard was the ringing in his ears and the terrified screams around him.

Smoke filled the air. Someone shouted that part of the terrace was collapsing.

Chenle pushed himself up, coughing, camera still clutched in one hand. The outer railing was twisted, metal groaning. One more step, and the floor gave way beneath him.

He didn’t even have time to scream before he was falling, air rushing past his face. The city spun below him, blinding, loud, endless.

Then the wind changed.

Strong arms caught him midair, pulling him against a solid chest. The world slowed.

When Chenle looked up, he saw the familiar red and blue.

Superman.

His cape rippled behind him, sunlight glinting off his shoulders as they hovered over the smoking building. The noise below faded. For a moment, it was just them, suspended in the sky.

“You’re safe now,” Superman said softly. His voice was low, warm, and calm in a way that made Chenle’s chest ache.

Chenle stared up at him, noticing his jawline, his steady eyes, and the faint smile that didn’t reach them. Something about the way he looked at him felt too familiar.

His heart raced, not from fear this time, but something else. Something he didn’t want to name.

“I—” Chenle started, but the words caught in his throat. “Thank you.”

Superman’s expression softened. “You really should stop being in the wrong place all the time.”

Chenle almost laughed. “It’s not like I plan these things.”

Superman’s lips quirked, the smallest hint of a smile. “Try not to make a habit of it.”

And just like that, he set Chenle down safely on the ground and flew off before Chenle could even blink.

The crowd around him cheered. Reporters shouted. But Chenle stood frozen, staring at the sky long after Superman vanished.

Something inside him shifted. The way his chest felt too tight. The way his hands still trembled.

He’d felt this before, the flutter, the warmth, the way his pulse jumped whenever Jeno smiled at him.

But this… this felt the same.

“Chenle!”

He turned, startled, just as Jeno came running through the smoke, eyes wide with panic. His tie was gone, shirt slightly torn, hair a mess. He looked like he’d sprinted halfway across Seoul.

Before Chenle could speak, Jeno grabbed his wrist and pulled him back, guiding him behind an alley where the air was clearer. Jeno’s grip stayed firm, protective, like he couldn’t let go until he was certain Chenle was safe.

“Are you okay?” Jeno’s hands were already on his shoulders, checking for injuries, eyes darting over him like he didn’t trust what he saw. “You’re not hurt? You… you almost…”

“I’m fine,” Chenle said, voice shaky. “Superman caught me.”

Jeno’s hands froze mid check. “He did?”

“Yeah,” Chenle whispered, staring at him. “He did.”

Jeno let out a shaky laugh of relief, his head dropping for a second. “You scared me half to death.”

Chenle couldn’t answer. His mind was still spinning, the fall, the flight, the warmth of Superman’s arms, and now Jeno’s eyes looking at him like that.

And suddenly, something inside him broke loose.

Without thinking, Chenle reached out, grabbed the front of Jeno’s shirt, and kissed him.

It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t careful. Just sudden, desperate, full of everything he’d been feeling without realizing it. Fear, relief, confusion, wanting.

For a heartbeat, Jeno froze. His mind went blank. Then everything that had been locked behind walls, the fear of losing him, the terror of seeing him fall, crashed through all at once.

He kissed back, deeper this time, raw and shaking, holding Chenle’s face like he was afraid to let go. It wasn’t logic. It was instinct. Need. Relief. Love disguised as panic.

And then he stopped, too suddenly. His breath hitched as he tore himself away, eyes wide, terrified not of what he felt, but of what it meant.

He forced himself to steady his breathing, to act like nothing had happened. Like he didn’t feel everything he’d just tried to bury.

Because the image of Chenle falling flashed again in his mind, that helplessness, that cold fear. And he knew, if Chenle ever found out, he’d be in more danger than either of them could handle.

“Chenle…” Jeno’s voice was soft, breathless, but carefully neutral. “What are you doing?”

Chenle blinked, still clutching the front of his shirt. His pulse was racing, his chest tight. “I thought—” His voice broke. “I thought I was going to die.”

Jeno’s eyes softened, and his chest tightened with a pang he tried to ignore. “You’re safe now. That’s all that matters.”

“That’s not the point,” Chenle whispered. “When I was falling, I didn’t think about the story, or Superman, or anything else. I thought about you.”

Jeno froze. He had to force his mind elsewhere, pretend he wasn’t shaking from the nearness, pretend his heart wasn’t racing. Pretend he didn’t feel the same way.

“I was scared,” Chenle continued, his words tumbling out, raw and unsteady. “I just kept thinking I wouldn’t get the chance to tell you that I, that you matter to me. That you make everything feel… different.”

The world around them was still chaos, sirens, shouting, smoke, but in that moment, it all faded.

Jeno stared at him, speechless. Every instinct in him wanted to reach back, to close the space, to let Chenle know he felt it too. But he couldn’t. Not yet. Not while the truth he carried could put Chenle at risk.

Chenle swallowed hard, lowering his voice. “So I kissed you. Because I was afraid I’d never get to.”

Jeno’s chest tightened, torn between relief and panic, guilt and something much warmer. He wanted to say it back. He wanted to fall into Chenle’s arms. But he could not let himself. Not yet. Not when his other life demanded secrets.

All he could manage was, “You should rest. You’ve had a rough day.”

Chenle gave a small, tired smile. “Yeah. Maybe.”

As Jeno turned away, he could feel Chenle’s gaze linger on him. The quiet steadiness, the care in every gesture, the way his hand had trembled when it touched his face. Every bit of it cut through Jeno, making him ache with what he could not admit.

There was no confusion anymore for Chenle. He knew exactly what it was.

He was falling, completely, hopelessly, for Jeno.

The days after the kiss were quiet.

Not awkward exactly, just suspended.

Like both of them were pretending it hadn’t happened, even though every glance, every brush of fingers, reminded them it had.

Jeno tried to act normal, to stay calm. He made Chenle coffee every morning, reminded him to eat, smiled the same small smile when their eyes met. He kept his tone light, his touches casual. Inside, though, every inch of him burned with a dangerous warmth he could not allow. Every beat of his heart reminded him how much he was holding back.

And people noticed.

“Did Jeno just… smile before 9 a.m.?” Haechan whispered one morning, blinking in disbelief.

Jaemin looked up from his camera, smirking. “Must be the Chenle effect.”

“Right,” Renjun said without glancing away from his sketches. “Love does improve caffeine tolerance.”

Later, when Chenle was late coming in from a field report, Jisung peered over his monitor. “He’s not here yet,” he murmured. “You think he’s okay?”

Jeno didn’t even realize he’d been checking the clock every few minutes until Mark, passing by, muttered dryly, “He’s fine, Jeno. Try worrying about the budget for once.”

That night, when Chenle finally returned, windblown and grinning, Jaemin caught the way Jeno’s shoulders eased instantly, the tension melting from his frame. He didn’t say anything, just hid a knowing smile.

Every time Chenle laughed, every time he leaned in too close, Jeno felt that same warmth climb up his chest. The secret behind his ribs pulsed heavier.

And Chenle, well, Chenle had stopped pretending altogether.

The newsroom felt quieter without Chenle.

He’d taken a few days off.

“Visiting a friend in Busan,” he’d said with that easy grin.

Jeno told himself it was fine. People took breaks. Chenle deserved one.

But every time his phone buzzed, every time the group chat lit up with Haechan’s jokes or Renjun’s sarcastic replies, Jeno found himself missing the one person who wasn’t answering.

By lunch, he gave up pretending.

He opened Chenle’s profile.

The photos hit harder than he expected.

Chenle at a boardwalk cafe, hair messy from the sea breeze, holding two ice creams.

Chenle grinning in a photo booth, cheek pressed close to a tall guy with sharp features and a soft smile.

And the caption under one of them, “Busan feels the same, even if we don’t.”

The comments didn’t help.

Old friends. A few hearts. Someone even tagged the guy, Sungchan.

The name struck something in Jeno’s memory.

He’d heard it once before, in a half asleep conversation when Chenle had been rambling over instant noodles.

“Yeah, we dated for a bit. College. Didn’t end badly, just… ended.”

He’d said it like it was nothing.

Jeno had nodded then, pretending not to care.

But now, seeing the photo, the two of them standing close, laughter spilling over like no time had passed, Jeno felt something sharp twist in his chest.

He tried to look away, but his eyes lingered on the way Sungchan’s hand rested lightly on Chenle’s shoulder. It shouldn’t mean anything. It was probably innocent.

But the warmth in Chenle’s smile was the same smile Jeno used to think was his.

He didn’t realize he’d been staring until Mark appeared beside him with his usual cup of burnt coffee.

“New story lead?” Mark asked dryly.

Jeno fumbled to lock his screen. “Uh… no. Just…”

“Uh huh.” Mark sipped his coffee, unimpressed. “You do realize you just sighed at your phone like someone in a drama, right?”

“I wasn’t sighing.”

“You were brooding,” Mark corrected. “Different genre, same expression.”

Jeno huffed out a small laugh, trying to hide how warm his face felt. “It’s nothing.”

Mark leaned against his desk, crossing his arms. “Chenle’s friend from Busan?”

Jeno blinked. “You saw?”

“Everyone saw.” Mark shrugged. “The kid posted like five photos in one afternoon. I’m surprised Haechan hasn’t made a meme out of it yet.”

Jeno managed a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “He looks happy.”

“Yeah,” Mark said, watching him carefully. “And you look like you’re trying very hard to be okay with that.”

Jeno opened his mouth to argue, but Mark cut him off gently. “Listen. I’ve been in this business long enough to know when someone’s losing their story. If you don’t make your move, you might lose him to that tall, handsome photographer from Busan.”

Jeno’s ears turned pink. “It’s not… It’s complicated.”

“Everything worth it is.” Mark’s voice softened. “But here’s the thing, you can’t spend your life editing your own feelings, Jeno. You either publish or you lose the headline.”

Jeno stayed quiet.

Mark tapped the edge of his mug against Jeno’s desk, voice quieter now. “You don’t have to do anything crazy. But if he matters, stop standing in your own way. People like Chenle don’t stay unspoken forever.”

With that, he clapped Jeno’s shoulder and walked away, leaving him staring at the empty space where he’d stood.

That night, Jeno’s apartment was too quiet.

He sat by the window, watching the city lights pulse far below.

His reflection stared back at him in the glass, tired and lonely.

He thought about the photos again. Chenle laughing in the sunlight, eyes bright.

The way Sungchan looked at him, like he already knew that light. Like he used to be the one who made him smile like that.

Jeno’s chest ached with something he didn’t want to name.

He’d saved half the city this week. He’d stopped fires, pulled people from wrecks, flown through smoke and lightning, but none of it filled the hollow ache pressing against his ribs.

Sometimes saving the city felt easier than sitting alone in this apartment, pretending he didn’t need anyone.

He closed his eyes and let the silence settle.

For a second, he imagined Chenle’s laugh echoing down the hall, the smell of coffee, the sound of his voice.

The ache sharpened.

Maybe Mark was right. Maybe it wasn’t about courage, maybe it was about timing.

Maybe it was about showing up before someone else did.

However, Chenle began teasing Jeno more, leaning just a little closer when he spoke. He’d linger near his desk longer than necessary, brushing his arm by accident, smiling when Jeno turned red.

At first, Jeno wanted to think it was just Chenle being Chenle, loud, affectionate, unfiltered. But every time Chenle leaned in, every laugh that caught in his throat, Jeno felt his chest tighten. His mind screamed at him to pull back, to stay careful. He couldn’t give in. Not now.

One evening, after another long day at work, Chenle looked at him and said,

“Do you want to get dinner with me? Just us.”

Jeno blinked, heart thudding. “Like… coworkers?”

Chenle tilted his head, lips quirking. “No. Like… me asking you out.”

Jeno nearly choked on his breath. “Out? As in—”

“A date.”

The way he said it was so casual, so sure, that Jeno’s careful walls wavered. His chest tightened. I can’t. I shouldn’t. But I want to, he thought, fighting the urge to reach for Chenle right then and there.

“Chenle, I—”

“Don’t overthink,” Chenle interrupted, smiling. “It’s just dinner.”

That night, at a tiny barbecue place, sharing food and laughter, the pull between them became impossible to ignore.

Chenle poured him a drink, slid him lettuce wraps, laughed when Jeno burned his tongue on the soup.

Jeno couldn’t stop staring.

“You’re staring,” Chenle said suddenly.

Jeno flinched. “I’m not.”

“You are.” Chenle’s grin softened. “I like it.”

Jeno’s ears turned pink. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re still here,” Chenle said quietly.

That shut him up.

Outside, it had started raining. They shared an umbrella as they walked back toward the subway, Chenle holding it between them, Jeno trying to keep his side from tilting. The rain made the city glow, soft lights, wet streets, everything quietly alive.

They walked close, shoulders brushing, the silence between them filled with unspoken things. Jeno’s mind raced, torn. If I let this happen, I can’t pull back. I can’t lie to myself anymore. But if I give in, I risk everything.

Then Chenle stopped.

Jeno turned, confused. “What’s wrong?”

Chenle shifted the umbrella so it covered them both more closely. The sound of rain softened above them. They were so near now that Jeno.

“Jeno,” Chenle said, voice calm but trembling just a little. “Do you not like me?”

Jeno blinked. “What?”

Chenle’s gaze didn’t waver. “Or do you like me? Because I like you.”

The words fell quiet between them, almost drowned by the rain but Jeno heard every syllable like a heartbeat.

He froze. His pulse hammered in his ears, the urge to run mingling with the ache in his chest. I can’t. I shouldn’t.

And yet, the thought of Chenle smiling at someone else, someone like that tall Busan ex who already knew how to make him laugh, cut deeper than he expected. He could save Chenle from falling buildings, from fires, from the sky itself… but not from falling for someone else. And that terrified him more than anything.

“I’ve liked you for a while now,” Chenle went on softly. “You make work feel lighter. You make everything feel easier. And I don’t want to keep pretending it’s nothing.”

Jeno’s breath caught. He had spent so long pretending distance was safety, that love could wait. But now, standing there, watching the rain gather in Chenle’s lashes, he realized how easily someone else could step in and take what he’d been too afraid to reach for.

The umbrella tilted slightly as Chenle stepped closer, rain brushing Jeno’s arm. “If you feel the same way,” he said, smiling just a little, “then let’s date.”

Jeno swallowed hard. "Yes." His walls crumbled. Every careful thought, every precaution against falling too fast, shattered under the warmth of Chenle’s gaze. He couldn’t resist. Not anymore. Not when losing him felt worse than any danger he could imagine. He let himself lean in, heart hammering, and whispered, “I like you, Chenle.”

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. His lips trembled, but he smiled.

“Then, today’s our first day?” Chenle asked quietly.

Jeno nodded shyly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah, today’s our first day.”

Before either of them could say anything else, Chenle leaned in, the umbrella slipping slightly, rain falling against their shoulders as their lips met.

The kiss was soft at first, uncertain, then deepened slowly as Jeno gave in completely, despite the turmoil inside him. One hand rose to Chenle’s cheek, fingers trembling, heart racing. He wanted to fight it, wanted to hold back for fear of what he carried inside, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Not anymore.

Because for the first time, he wasn’t saving Chenle from danger. He was saving himself from losing him.

The world around them blurred, rain, lights, the sound of cars, all fading into the steady rhythm of their hearts.

When they finally pulled apart, Chenle was smiling like he couldn’t believe it was real.

“See?” he whispered. “Not so scary.”

Jeno laughed quietly, forehead resting against his. “You have no idea.”

Inside, his heart still wrestled with the secret he carried. But in that moment, all that mattered was Chenle, and for once, he allowed himself to be completely, undeniably, his.

For once, Jeno decided, he would be selfish.

Later that night, when Chenle was home and probably still grinning into his pillow, Jeno stood on the edge of a skyscraper, cape fluttering in the wind.

The city stretched beneath him, glowing and endless.

He’d flown half of Seoul just to clear his head, but nothing helped.

His chest ached, with happiness, with fear, with something too big to name.

He wanted to tell Chenle his secret. That the man he kissed under the umbrella was the same one who caught him from the sky.

But the image of Chenle falling flashed again in his mind, that terror, that helplessness, and he knew. If Chenle ever found out, he’d be in more danger.

Jeno closed his eyes. The wind caught his cape, carrying it upward.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into the night. “But I can’t tell you. Not yet.”

And with one last look toward the distant light of Chenle’s apartment, Superman rose into the clouds, heart full, heavy, but breaking.

For weeks, life settled into a rhythm that felt almost unreal.

At work, they kept their relationship quiet. Careful smiles, quick glances, messages hidden under desks. To their coworkers, they were still the same.

Or so they thought.

Because while Chenle and Jeno believed they were being discreet, the newsroom was very much not blind.

“Tell me I’m not the only one noticing,” Haechan whispered one afternoon, eyes flicking toward the pair sharing lunch behind their monitors.

Jaemin didn’t even look up from his editing station. “You mean the way Jeno pretends not to look at Chenle every thirty seconds?”

Renjun smirked faintly, scribbling notes in his sketchbook. “They’re about as subtle as a headline typo.”

“Should we say something?” Jisung asked quietly.

Mark sighed from his office doorway. “No. If we acknowledge it, it’ll get worse. Just let them think they’re being sneaky.”

Beneath the surface, everything had changed.

Their days were filled with stolen moments. Lunch shared at Jeno’s desk. Jeno waiting for Chenle at the subway station. A soft hand on a shoulder when no one was looking.

Still, the whispers spread in harmless ways. Little smiles passed around the office, quiet knowing glances.

When Chenle brought Jeno coffee, Haechan stage whispered, “Ah, the delivery boy strikes again.”

When Jeno lingered after hours just to walk Chenle home, Jaemin muttered, “Tragic. Journalism’s most obvious secret romance.”

Even Renjun, usually too focused on deadlines, left a note on the communal fridge that read: Office couples, please stop using the last of the creamer.

But Chenle and Jeno didn’t notice. Or maybe they just didn’t care.

When Chenle talked, Jeno listened like every word was precious. When Jeno laughed, Chenle couldn’t help but stare.

They didn’t need big gestures. Just being near each other was enough.

Until the world started being messy again.

Chenle had been covering the mayor’s public appearance in Seoul’s central plaza, notebook in hand, camera slung over his shoulder. The crowd was dense, reporters jostling for position, security on high alert. He was focused on capturing the mayor’s statements and snapping pictures of the event when a sharp, unmistakable sound cut through the chatter.

A gunshot.

Screams erupted instantly. Chaos rippled through the crowd as people dove for cover. Chenle’s heart slammed in his chest as someone grabbed him roughly from behind, pressing a hand over his mouth.

“Stay quiet,” the man hissed, dragging him toward a shadowed corner. “Move with me, or you’re dead.”

Chenle froze, panic flooding every thought. He barely had time to react as he was pushed closer to a parked car.

From above, a streak of red and blue tore through the sky.

Superman.

The assailant froze, looking up, and in that instant, Superman slammed into him with unstoppable force, lifting him off the ground and sending him crashing into a metal barricade. Chenle stumbled, arms flailing, and Superman swept him into his grasp before he could hit the pavement.

“You’re safe now,” Superman said, his voice calm but carrying unmistakable concern.

Chenle’s knees pressed against his chest. “I… I didn’t even... how—” His words trembled as adrenaline shook him. “You’re always there. You just know.”

Superman’s eyes met his for a long moment. “I have to. People like you run toward danger when everyone else runs away.”

Chenle’s chest tightened. “And you keep… you keep running after me every single time.”

Inside, Jeno’s chest tightened. They took Chenle as a hostage. Had they figured out he was someone close to Superman because he had saved him too many times? Would they use Chenle against him? Every second Chenle was in danger, the weight of his secret pressed harder, guilt and fear twisting together.

“You’re okay now,” Superman said softly. “Stay low until the area is secure.”

Chenle exhaled, still shaking. “Thanks… I don’t even know how to thank you.”

“You don’t need to,” Superman replied, voice quiet, gaze lingering on him for a fraction longer.

Minutes later, Jeno arrived from a nearby side street, slightly out of breath, hair damp from the morning drizzle. “Chenle, are you okay?”

Chenle nodded, still catching his breath. “Yeah… I think so. That was… insane.”

Jeno forced a weak smile, masking the lingering shock from the chaos around them. His mind raced, heart still hammering, as he kept a careful watch on Chenle, making sure he was truly unharmed.

But as the security forces swarmed the plaza, taking the assailants into custody, Jeno’s fears slowly eased. It turned out it wasn’t Chenle. They were after the mayor. Just the mayor. Chenle had been caught in the crossfire, unlucky but not a target.

Jeno exhaled, relief flooding through him, though the knot in his chest didn’t fully fade. He reached out to steady Chenle, brushing wet hair from his forehead. “Come on, let’s get you somewhere safe,” he said softly.

As they walked together, Chenle stole a glance at him, noticing the quiet steadiness in Jeno’s posture.

That night, Chenle stayed over at Jeno’s apartment. He had said, "Just until the trains start again," though the truth was simpler. He had wanted to be here, with Jeno. He had curled up on the bed, draped in one of Jeno’s oversized sweaters, sleeves too long and soft against his fingers. Exhaustion finally won, and he fell asleep.

Jeno couldn’t sleep.

He sat on the edge of his bed, watching Chenle breathe. The way the sweater hung on him made Jeno’s chest tighten, a quiet ache he had tried to ignore all day.

That sweater, his sweater, shouldn’t have made him feel like this. Possessive. Warm. Terrified. Because the thought of Chenle wearing someone else’s, laughing with someone else the way he laughed with him, twisted something deep inside.

Every time Chenle faced a risky situation, Jeno promised himself he would tell the truth. But fear always won. Each time, he swore he wouldn’t hide anymore. Each time, he failed.

He looked at his hands, flexing them slowly. They were steady now, but he remembered the tremor that ran through them earlier, not from exhaustion, but from holding Chenle too close, too long.

The memory of those brief days when Chenle had been gone, smiling in pictures beside that old Busan friend, Sungchan, still lingered like a bruise he couldn’t press without hurting. He could save Chenle from everything else, but not from walking away. Not from being loved by someone safer, someone human.

He told himself he could manage this life. He could love Chenle quietly, carefully, without the world finding out. That Superman and Jeno could exist separately, like two sides of the same coin that never touched.

But he was lying to himself.

He had tried so hard not to fall for Chenle. Told himself friendship was enough. That distance was safer. But every smile, every late night talk, every time Chenle reached out without hesitation, Jeno’s resolve had cracked until it finally gave way.

He hadn’t meant to say yes that night under the umbrella. But seeing Chenle standing there, rain dripping from his hair, eyes trembling with honesty, Jeno couldn’t do it. He couldn’t lie.

So he let himself be selfish. Just once.

If Chenle could give his heart so freely to someone like Sungchan once, Jeno wanted to believe, even for a night, that it could belong to him instead.

Because Chenle made him feel human. When the world only saw a god, Chenle looked at him and saw a person. Someone shy, clumsy, sometimes sarcastic, someone who laughed too easily and worked too late. That small piece of normal life was his escape. His anchor.

And that was what scared him most, not the danger of being discovered, but the thought of being replaced. Of waking up one day to find Chenle’s smile turned toward someone else.

And that was the cruelest part of it.

If Chenle ever knew who he really was, everything would change. Jeno could already imagine it. The investigations, the surveillance, the questions about his past. They would dig into everything, everyone he cared about. And when they found Chenle, they would use him, threaten him, hurt him just to reach Superman.

Even if no one else found out, Chenle would still live in fear, looking over his shoulder.

Jeno pressed his palms together, breathing shakily. "If he knows, he’ll be in more danger because of me."

He looked at Chenle again, the soft crease between his brows, the faint smile that lingered even in sleep.

He reached out before he could stop himself, brushing a stray strand of hair from Chenle’s forehead, fingers trembling from how much he wanted to keep this, this peace, this nearness, safe from the world. Safe from anyone else.

"I can’t let anyone take that from you," he whispered. "Not because of me."

He hesitated, his voice breaking. "Next time, I’ll tell you."

The words hung in the dark, fragile and false. Because he already knew, when morning came, fear would win again.

But tonight, just for a moment, he let himself believe Chenle’s warmth was his to protect, and his alone.

At work, nothing looked different. Jeno still sat quietly beside Chenle, editing photos, nodding along to conversations. Chenle still teased him about his bland lunch choices, still smiled across the desks, still called out for him when deadlines hit.

But beneath the small talk, something had changed.

Jeno had started watching Chenle more carefully. Making sure he ate, that he didn’t overwork, that he wasn’t anywhere near the disasters that kept shaking Seoul.

And Chenle had started watching Jeno, too.

It began with small things.

A breaking alert on the newsroom monitors, explosion downtown, and Jeno, suddenly standing, muttering something about needing a quote or an errand. Then Superman appeared. Always within minutes.

The first time, Chenle thought it was coincidence. The second, bad timing. But after a couple more times, he found himself frowning every time Jeno left the room right before Superman arrived.

He didn’t want to suspect anything.

Jeno was Jeno. Shy, sweet, reliable Jeno. Still, his instincts as a reporter wouldn’t shut up.

One afternoon, they were sent to cover an investigative report on industrial sabotage near Guro. The air was thick with tension and the smell of smoke.

“Stay here,” Jeno said as they neared the cordoned zone, his camera slung over his shoulder.

Chenle rolled his eyes. “You say that every time. And every time, I don’t.”

“I’m serious this time,” Jeno said, his tone sharper than usual. “It’s dangerous.”

Chenle blinked, surprised. Jeno rarely raised his voice, even slightly. “Jeno, I’m just doing my job.”

“I know,” Jeno said, eyes softening instantly, guilt flashing across his face. “Just… be careful, okay?”

Chenle smiled faintly. “You worry too much.”

But before he could say anything else, a distant boom shook the ground.

The warehouse across the street exploded. Flames erupted, debris scattering through the air. Chenle stumbled backward, covering his head. People screamed. Another blast followed, stronger. The shockwave knocked him off his feet.

Instinctively, he shouted, “Jeno! Are you—?” His pulse raced.

But then, a shadow fell over him.

He looked up, smoke, light, and then him.

Superman.

He swooped in, catching the collapsing beam before it crushed them both. Sparks showered around them as the steel groaned, held in Superman’s unyielding grip. Slowly, he lifted it aside, lowering it to the ground where it clanged harmlessly.

Chenle’s knees wobbled, and he steadied himself against a nearby column. Smoke curled around him.

“Are you hurt?” Superman asked, voice steady but laced with strain as he pushed the last debris aside.

Chenle shook his head, trying to smile through the smoke. “We really have to stop meeting like this. And… wait. I was with someone. Jeno! He could’ve—”

Superman’s jaw tightened slightly. He didn’t answer right away. Then, in a voice low and steady, he said, “No one else was there. You’re alone. But don't worry, I’ve got you, you're safe now.”

Chenle’s brow furrowed. There was something familiar in that tone, something he's starting to be certain of.

Then Superman shot upward, wind rushing past Chenle as he disappeared into the sky. For a few long, anxious seconds, Chenle was alone, heart hammering, eyes scanning the smoke.

And then he saw him.

Jeno emerged slowly from behind a fallen support beam, brushing ash and dust from his hair. His movements were slightly unsteady. “Chenle! Are you okay?”

“Jeno! What happened? I thought—”

“I got pushed by the blast,” Jeno said quickly, voice rough but steady. “Fell a little. Nothing serious. I… just wanted to make sure you were safe first.”

Chenle exhaled, relief flooding him, though adrenaline still raced through his veins. He noticed the faint scrape on Jeno’s sleeve, the small smear of soot across his cheek.

“You scared me,” Chenle murmured, letting his camera hang at his side.

Jeno forced a weak smile, brushing off the concern. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

For a brief moment, they just looked at each other, the chaos of the explosion fading around them.

That night, Chenle sat at his desk long after Jeno fell asleep. The apartment was quiet except for the soft hum of the refrigerator.

He opened his notebook, flipping to the pages where he’d started scribbling patterns.

Dates. Locations. Times.

Every major Superman appearance. Every major disaster.

And beside them, Jeno’s absences. Each one lining up too neatly to ignore.

He stared at the overlapping lines, tapping his pen against the page.

It didn’t make sense. It shouldn’t make sense.

Jeno couldn’t be Superman. That was ridiculous.

He was quiet, gentle, shy. Not someone who could lift cars and stop fires.

Sure, he looked good.

Too good, if Chenle was being honest. The kind of good that made his brain short circuit sometimes. Broad shoulders, that lean build that hinted at hidden strength. That one time Jeno had worn a plain white shirt, sleeves rolled up, Chenle had nearly choked on his coffee.

But that didn’t mean anything. Having a very, very, very, very nice physique didn’t make someone Superman.

Right?

Chenle dropped his pen and leaned back, rubbing his temples. “I really need to stop imagining things about my boyfriend while I’m trying to be a journalist,” he muttered under his breath.

The words came out half exasperation, half affection and maybe a tiny bit of fear.

He glanced over at Jeno asleep on the couch.

“Just who are you, really?” Chenle whispered, his voice trembling with curiosity.

Jeno stirred but didn’t wake.

And for now, Chenle decided, he’d keep his questions to himself.

Chenle wasn’t the kind of reporter who ignored a lead.

Except, apparently, when the lead was his boyfriend.

For days, he tried to convince himself he was overthinking. Maybe Jeno’s timing was just bad. Maybe Superman’s rescues were coincidence. Maybe his brain was connecting dots that didn’t exist.

But every time Jeno smiled at him across the newsroom, gentle, shy, his eyes curving like sunlight through clouds, Chenle’s heart twisted. Because now, whenever he looked at Jeno, he couldn’t not see Superman too.

The way both looked at him, that same quiet intensity, like he was the only person in a burning world worth saving.

The thought alone made his chest ache.

One afternoon, after another long editorial meeting, Chenle walked into the bullpen and found Jeno half asleep at his desk, glasses slipping down his nose, a half eaten kimbap beside him.

He hesitated before nudging Jeno’s shoulder. “Hey, workaholic. You’ll ruin your eyes.”

Jeno stirred, blinking up at him. “You’re still here?”

Chenle grinned. “Someone has to make sure you don’t merge with your keyboard.”

Jeno chuckled softly, rubbing his neck. “I’m fine. Just… a lot to finish before tomorrow.”

“Another Superman feature?”

“Yeah,” Jeno said, his voice faintly strained.

Chenle sat on the edge of the desk, crossing his arms. “You really don’t like covering him, do you?”

Jeno hesitated, just a heartbeat too long. “It’s not that. I just think there are too many stories about him already.”

“Mm.” Chenle tilted his head, watching him. “Funny. Most people here fight for those assignments. You’re the only one who looks like you’d rather clean the archives than write about Superman.”

Jeno gave a nervous laugh. “Guess I’m just… different.”

“You are,” Chenle murmured, softer than intended.

For a moment, neither of them said anything.

Then Chenle smiled, light and teasing again. “In that case, I’m pitching something new tomorrow. An exclusive interview with Superman. Seoul’s first one-on-one.”

Jeno’s pen slipped from his hand. “What?”

“An exclusive. Imagine the reach. The headlines. The clicks.” Chenle’s grin widened. “And you’re helping me write it.”

Jeno froze, eyes wide. “Wait, me?”

“Of course. You’re the best photographer here.”

“I… I don’t think that’s a good idea.” His voice cracked slightly.

Chenle arched a brow. “Why not?”

Jeno opened his mouth, closed it again. “Because… because it’s risky. He’s unpredictable. And you… you always get hurt when he’s around.”

Chenle’s lips parted, caught off guard by the sudden sharpness in Jeno’s tone.

“I can handle myself,” Chenle said after a moment, softer now. “It’s my job.”

“I know,” Jeno whispered, looking down at his hands. “I just… I don’t like seeing you in danger.”

That quiet confession made Chenle’s heart stutter. For a moment, the suspicion in his chest melted into something warm and painfully tender.

“Then come with me,” Chenle said. “You can keep me safe.”

Jeno looked up and in his eyes, Chenle saw every unsaid thing trembling to escape.

“I’ll… I’ll think about it,” he managed.

Two days later, the pitch was approved.

Chenle was ecstatic. He practically bounced in his seat as Mark gave the green light. “Front page,” he said. “If you can get Superman to talk, it’s yours.”

He glanced at Jeno, who looked like he might be sick.

“You okay?” Chenle asked.

Jeno nodded stiffly. “Yeah. Fine.”

He wasn’t fine.

Inside, his thoughts were spiraling. What if Chenle found out? What if he saw me change? What if I mess up?

By the time the day of the interview arrived, Jeno was pacing outside the newsroom, hands buried in his pockets, heart pounding so hard it felt like it would crack his ribs.

He couldn’t do it.

Not like this.

Not yet.

So he lied.

“I had to cover another story downtown,” he texted his boss. “Emergency. Won’t make it back in time.”

Then he stood on a nearby rooftop, dressed in blue and red, watching from above as Chenle arrived at the agreed meeting spot, a rooftop cafe, open to the skyline, waiting with his recorder ready and a nervous smile on his face.

The moment Superman landed, Chenle’s breath caught. Partly awe, partly something heavier.

“Superman,” he greeted, his voice steady but eyes searching. “Thank you for coming.”

Superman nodded once. “You wanted to talk.”

“Yeah. Just a few questions.”

But when Chenle lifted his gaze to meet Superman’s, his journalistic calm faltered. There it was again. The same warmth, the same steady eyes, the same almost familiar way he said you.

He asked about heroism, about burden, about identity. Superman answered carefully, each word measured. But when Chenle leaned forward and asked softly, “Do you ever get tired of hiding who you really are?”, Superman’s expression froze for a fraction of a second too long.

Chenle saw it. The hesitation, the flicker of something human.

His heart skipped a beat.

Hours later, Jeno found Chenle back at the office, typing his notes.

“How’d it go?” Jeno asked, trying to sound casual.

Chenle smiled faintly. “Interesting.”

“Did he show up?”

“Oh, he did,” Chenle said, eyes locked on Jeno’s face. “He was… different from what I expected.”

Jeno swallowed. “Different how?”

Chenle shrugged lightly. “Just… familiar, somehow.”

Their eyes met. For a second, the world seemed to still, everything fading into silence.

Then Chenle smiled again, playful but sharp beneath the surface. “You should’ve been there, Jeno. You really missed out.”

Jeno forced a small laugh. “Yeah. Maybe next time.”

But as Chenle turned back to his screen, he caught his reflection in the dark monitor. His faint smile curving just a little too knowingly.

Because now, he wasn’t just suspicious.

He was certain.

Chenle wasn’t sleeping much these days.

It wasn’t just the late nights at work or the endless reruns of disaster footage. It was the look in Superman’s eyes, or maybe Jeno’s eyes, every time he closed his own.

That softness. That warmth. That ache that said You're safe.

He used to wonder why Superman always seemed to find him first, why Jeno would show up later with the same dirt on his hands, the same exhaustion hidden behind a smile.

But after that interview, after seeing the way Superman’s gaze lingered, the pieces started to fall into place.

At first, he refused to believe it. It was impossible. Too big, too absurd.

But then came the little things he could no longer ignore. The same tone in their voices, the same quiet steadiness, the same way his heartbeat felt when either of them looked at him.

And when the truth finally settled in, it didn’t come with shock. It came with silence.

He remembered sitting alone in the newsroom, lights dimmed, rain streaking down the windows, and whispering to no one in particular, “You idiot.”

Not out of anger. But out of something closer to heartbreak.

Because it all made sense now.

The sudden disappearances. The bruised knuckles. The tired eyes. The way Jeno always looked like he was holding something heavy that he couldn’t put down.

And Chenle realized that while everyone else saw Superman as untouchable, he had been watching Jeno fall apart piece by piece, right in front of him.

He wanted to be angry, to demand why Jeno hadn’t trusted him, why he had to find out this way. But instead, all he felt was ache.

Because now that he knew, he could never unsee it.

The hero and the man. The truth and the lie. The secret and the softness that tied them together.

He’d stopped pretending they were different people.

Now, he wanted to know how far the truth went and whether Jeno would ever trust him enough to share it.

The first time he tried was during another city crisis, a truck that had lost its brakes, barreling toward a crowded street where Chenle was standing. Chenle, of course, had been there, covering a feature on traffic safety for the paper. Bad luck, or fate.

The truck sped down the street, horns blaring, people screaming.

Chenle froze, unsure whether to run or dive for cover.

Then, suddenly…

Superman.

In an instant, he lifted everyone out of the truck’s path, setting them gently on a safe section of the street.

Chenle was left standing alone. The truck rumbled closer, and for a terrifying moment, he thought he was done for.

Then Superman was in front of it, stopping it gently, just a foot from where Chenle stood, careful not to hurt the driver from the sudden impact.

Chenle staggered back, breath catching, as wind whipped around him. He blinked, heart racing, held steady in familiar arms.

Superman hovered above the street, the truck now safely halted behind them.

“You’re really everywhere I go, huh?” Chenle said breathlessly. “Almost like you’ve got a crush on me.”

Superman stiffened midair. For a split second, he looked like he’d rather face another runaway vehicle than answer.

“I… I’m just doing my job,” he managed, eyes fixed on the horizon.

Chenle smiled, sly and knowing. “Sure. You save everyone this often?”

“I save who needs saving.”

“And that just happens to be me. A lot.”

Superman didn’t answer. His ears, though, betrayed him, turning pink at the edges.

Chenle saw it and bit back a laugh. He leaned in just a little, voice dropping. “Relax. I’m kidding.”

“Are you?”

That one quiet question caught him off guard. The tone low and careful. So Jeno.

Chenle’s heart skipped. “Maybe not.”

But before he could say anything more, Superman was gone in a blur.

The second time happened a week later.

Another emergency. Another wrong place, wrong time. Chenle had been covering a charity event downtown when a drone malfunctioned and crashed into a skyscraper, igniting a blaze.

Smoke filled the air. Glass rained from above. People screamed and scrambled for safety.

Superman appeared first, sweeping through the chaos, pulling civilians from the building, guiding them to safety. Chenle watched in awe, his camera forgotten, heart hammering.

And then, after the last group had cleared, Superman turned his attention to him.

Chenle stumbled, coughing, as debris skidded past.

“Why is it always you?” Superman’s voice was steady, but breathless as he scooped Chenle into his arms, shielding him.

“Maybe the universe is trying to tell us something,” Chenle murmured, clinging to him. His tone was light, but his pulse betrayed him.

Superman didn’t reply. His grip around Chenle’s waist tightened briefly, instinctive, before setting him down somewhere safe, away from the fire and everyone else. The flames reflected across his face, highlighting the tension, the intensity, and that familiar sense of protection Chenle had come to recognize and crave.

“Stay out of danger next time,” he said.

“And miss seeing you again?” Chenle teased softly.

Superman froze. Not because of the words, but because of the way he said them. Warm, teasing, but trembling slightly. Like he meant every word.

The silence stretched between them, too full of everything unsaid.

Chenle took a slow step forward. “You keep saving me. Maybe it’s time I give something in return.”

“Chenle,” Superman warned, voice low, pleading now.

He smiled faintly. “You said my name.”

Before Jeno could stop himself, before Superman could remember all the reasons he shouldn’t, Chenle leaned in and kissed him.

It was soft at first, tentative. Then Superman’s hand came up, almost helplessly, to cup the back of his neck, pulling him closer. For a heartbeat, the world fell silent, the smoke, the chaos, everything, and it was just them in a moment that shouldn’t exist.

And then guilt slammed into him.

Superman broke the kiss, breathing hard, eyes wide with something like pain.

“Don’t,” he whispered, stepping back. “Please.”

Chenle blinked, hurt flashing across his face. “Why?”

Superman shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

He turned before Chenle could say anything else, disappearing into the clouds, leaving Chenle standing alone, the warmth of his lips still lingering like fire.

The next morning, Jeno was nowhere to be found.

He wasn’t at his desk. His phone went straight to voicemail.

When he finally came in, hours late, he barely looked at Chenle.

No shy smiles. No quiet jokes. Just silence.

From the next row, Haechan glanced up from his screen, brows lifting. “Someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” he muttered, earning a snort from Jaemin.

Mark shot them both a look that said not now before going back to his call.

Chenle pretended not to notice.

The hardest part wasn’t imagining losing him. It was seeing him every day, right there, close enough to reach out and touch, yet somehow feeling farther away than ever.

Jeno used to smile at him every morning, a soft, sleepy thing that crinkled his eyes and made the world feel a little less heavy. But lately, that smile had vanished.

The first morning Chenle noticed, he brushed it off. Maybe Jeno just hadn’t slept. Deadlines had been brutal lately.

But then came the second morning. And the third.

No smile. No greeting. Just a quiet nod before Jeno slipped into his chair, eyes fixed on his screen, typing away like Chenle wasn’t sitting right beside him.

From the bullpen, Renjun leaned over to Jaemin, whispering, “Did they fight?”

“Probably,” Jaemin murmured, not looking up from his camera. “You can feel the tension.”

Mark sighed from his glass office, rubbing his temples. “If this turns into another newsroom romance meltdown, I’m not mediating.”

Jisung, ever clueless, blinked between them. “Wait, they’re dating? Like? For real now?”

“Intern,” Haechan said without looking up, “observe more, talk less.”

Their coffee cups used to touch on the desk, side by side. Now, there was space between them. A careful, intentional gap that Chenle didn’t know how to cross.

And when Jeno laughed, the laugh that used to make Chenle’s heart trip over itself, it sounded wrong. Like it hurt to come out.

By the end of the week, Chenle couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Something had changed.

And he hated how much it hurt.

Chenle caught Jeno in the hallway that Friday, after another long night of editing Superman coverage.

“Hey,” Chenle said, blocking his way. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

Jeno blinked, startled. “What? No, I just… I’ve been busy.”

“Busy avoiding me,” Chenle repeated, his tone softer now. “Did I… do something?”

Jeno’s eyes darted away. His hands curled around the strap of his bag like it was a lifeline.

“No. You didn’t.”

“Then why does it feel like you hate me all of a sudden?”

The words slipped out before Chenle could stop them. It wasn’t anger that colored his voice, it was something smaller, more fragile. The kind of hurt that sat behind a shaky smile.

Jeno opened his mouth, then closed it again. His throat moved like he was trying to swallow something heavy.

“It’s not you,” he said finally, voice quiet, strained. “It’s… me.”

Chenle frowned. “You’re really using that line?”

That almost made Jeno laugh, almost. His lips twitched, but the sound never came.

He shifted, avoiding Chenle’s gaze. “You should stay away from me for a while.”

Chenle’s breath caught. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying…” Jeno exhaled, the words barely holding together. “You deserve someone who won’t hurt you.”

Chenle stared at him, blinking hard. “Then why did you make me think you could be that person?”

For a moment, Jeno’s mask cracked. His eyes softened, and for a split second, the old warmth flickered through, the same warmth that made Chenle fall for him in the first place.

But then he turned away.

Chenle watched as Jeno walked down the hallway, hands in his pockets, head low. The sound of his footsteps faded with every second until there was nothing left but the hollow ache in Chenle’s chest.

He stood there for a long time, alone, staring at the space Jeno had left behind.

And when his phone buzzed with another breaking alert.

Superman spotted downtown, ongoing rescue.

He laughed softly, bitterly.

Of course.

Sleep didn’t come easily anymore.

Jeno lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, chest tight with a weight he couldn’t shake.

He’d faced fire, bullets, and collapsing buildings without blinking. But the memory of Chenle’s lips against him as Superman shattered him in a way no danger ever could.

He had kissed Chenle back, but it wasn’t the same. It couldn’t be. That kiss had been wrong, and yet irresistible. He replayed it endlessly, heart pounding, stomach twisting, wishing he could undo it.

He had been hurt.

Chenle had kissed Superman.

Not Jeno.

Not the man who quietly made his coffee, who laughed at his bad jokes, who lingered in the rain just to see him smile.

Not the Jeno who had fallen for him long before the world knew about Superman.

And maybe that was what hurt most, that Chenle’s lips had found him in a moment when he wasn’t Jeno at all. When the person Chenle loved had been hidden under a mask and a name that wasn’t real.

And yet he couldn’t be angry.

Chenle didn’t know the truth. He didn’t know that Superman and Jeno were the same person.

Insecurity pressed on him.

Superman was everything Jeno wasn’t.

Brave, untouchable, admired, flawless. Jeno was quiet, clumsy, easily flustered, sometimes forgetful.

Jeno was… human.

And he feared that if Chenle’s heart had chosen Superman in that moment, it might stay with him, leaving Jeno behind.

The thought that Chenle could prefer the man in the cape over him, even unknowingly, twisted his chest. Every time Chenle laughed, leaned in, or shivered in danger, Jeno felt the impossible pull of loving someone who might never fully be his.

Then came the guilt.

He had lied to protect Chenle, hidden the truth to keep him safe. But now he realized that his silence itself was hurting the person he loved the most.

Each time Chenle had brushed close, each time danger found him, Jeno had promised himself he’d confess.

Each time, fear won.

Because if Chenle knew, he’d be a target. Anyone who wanted Superman would know he had someone close, someone vulnerable. And Jeno could not bear to put Chenle in that position.

Safety meant secrecy.

Love meant hiding.

And Jeno had to choose.

The thought that Chenle might slip away, not from danger, not from Superman, but because of the truth he refused to tell, was unbearable.

He wanted to tell him.

He wanted to be honest.

But honesty could get him killed.

Could get Chenle killed.

Jeno pressed the heel of his hand to his chest, breathing shakily. He couldn’t protect and love him at the same time.

Not fully. Not without risk.

Jeno sat up, running a hand through his hair. His room was dark, silent except for the hum of the city outside. His reflection stared back from the window.

His eyes looked tired. Too tired for someone who could lift a building, too lonely for someone who could fly.

“You really messed this up,” he whispered to himself.

And in his heart, he knew the only way forward was to let go.

Not because Chenle had done anything wrong. Not because he stopped loving him.

Because love without honesty would only hurt the person he cherished most.

Because being both Superman and Jeno, loving Chenle while keeping him safe, was impossible.

And he would rather step away than let the truth, whatever form it might take, destroy them both.

The newsroom was empty except for the soft tapping of rain against the windows.

Chenle stood a few feet away, voice low and unsteady.

“Can we talk?” he asked, quieter than he meant.

Jeno didn’t look at him. “We’ve talked.”

“No,” Chenle said, stepping closer. “You’ve avoided me.”

Jeno sighed, eyes still down. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“There’s everything to talk about,” Chenle snapped, frustration leaking through. “You’ve been shutting me out for days, Jeno. I don’t understand—”

“You kissed him,” Jeno said quietly.

Chenle froze. The words hit harder than he expected.

“What?”

“Superman,” Jeno said, finally looking at him. His eyes were dark, tired. “You kissed him.”

The air between them went still. Thunder rolled somewhere beyond the windows.

Chenle bit the inside of his cheek, holding his ground. “I wanted to kiss him,” he said finally. “I won’t lie about that.”

Jeno’s jaw tightened, pain flashing through his eyes.

“But,” Chenle continued, voice trembling, “you don’t get it. When I kissed him… it wasn’t about him.”

“It’s fine,” Jeno cut in softly. “You don’t have to explain.”

“No, it’s not fine!” Chenle’s voice cracked. “You think I don’t see what this is doing to you? You think I don’t feel it every time you look away?”

Jeno let out a shaky breath. “I’m not angry at you.”

“Then what is it?” Chenle demanded. “Because you keep looking at me like I’ve done something unforgivable.”

Jeno’s throat worked, but no words came at first. When they finally did, they were rough.
“It’s me,” he said. “I can’t… I can’t keep pretending I can be enough for you.”

“You don’t have to,” Chenle said. “You’re—”

“Stop,” Jeno said quietly, almost pleading. “Please don’t make this harder.”

“Then tell me why,” Chenle insisted, stepping closer until their shadows touched. “If it’s not about him, then what is it? Because I can’t keep guessing what I did wrong.”

Jeno’s voice broke. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why?”

“Because I have to.” His voice trembled, like it was holding back something bigger, something breaking. “Because I can’t keep being half of myself with you and pretending it’s enough. Because every time I look at you, I want to tell you things I can’t. And it’s killing me.”

Chenle’s hands shook. “You don't have to tell me. I—”

“Chenle. Please.”

The word landed like a knife.

Chenle’s chest tightened. “Jeno, I love you.”

“I know. And that’s the cruelest part. I love you too, but I can’t.” Jeno’s eyes glistened. “Because if I keep going, I’ll destroy the best thing I’ve ever had.”

Chenle didn’t have an answer. He only knew that when Superman held him, his heart had raced the same way it did whenever Jeno smiled at him. The same warmth. The same pull. It terrified him, because deep down, he knew it wasn’t two different people he was falling for.

Jeno took a step back. “I have to step away before I hurt you more. Before I make all of this worse.”

Chenle shook his head, voice breaking. “You don’t mean that.”

Jeno turned and walked away.

“Jeno!” Chenle’s voice cracked behind him. “Don’t go. Please.”

Jeno wanted to go back. To hold him. To tell him everything.

But if he stayed, he’d break him completely.

“Stop,” Chenle said, tears starting to spill. “Don’t do this.”

“I have to.”

“Jeno, I love you,” Chenle whispered. "Please."

Jeno’s face crumpled from the kind of pain that sits deep in the chest and refuses to move.

He stepped forward, close enough for Chenle to see the tears in his eyes. His hand hovered for a second, as if he wanted to reach out, then dropped back to his side.

“I love you too,” he said. “But love’s not enough.” His voice cracked. “Sometimes it hurts too much to keep it.”

Chenle’s voice came out in a whisper. “Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying…” Jeno’s breath trembled. “Let’s stop before we break each other completely.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Chenle shook his head, tears spilling freely now. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” Jeno said softly. “Because if I stay, I’ll keep lying. And you’ll keep getting hurt.”

Chenle froze, confusion flickering, but before he could ask, Jeno took another step back, shaking his head as if he’d said too much.

“Goodbye, Chenle.”

The words cut like glass.

Jeno turned and walked out, leaving Chenle standing there with rain and heartbreak echoing through the newsroom.

Chenle’s knees gave out, and he sank into Jeno’s chair, burying his face in his hands. His sobs were silent at first, then loud, then hollow.

He didn’t chase him. He couldn’t.

Because somehow, deep down, he knew.

Jeno wasn’t walking away because he stopped loving him.

He was walking away because he still did.

The glass doors creaked open again. Chenle startled, wiping at his face too late.

Renjun stood in the doorway, umbrella in hand, surprise flickering across his expression when he saw him there. “Chenle? I thought everyone left hours ago.”

Chenle tried to answer, but the only sound that came out was a choked laugh. “Yeah. Everyone did.”

Renjun hesitated, then walked closer, setting his umbrella by the door. “You look like hell.”

“Thanks,” Chenle said weakly. “That’s exactly what I was going for.”

Renjun’s face softened, his usual sharp calm dimming to something gentler. “Ah.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy, but not uncomfortable.

Renjun sat on the edge of the desk across from him. “You want to tell me what happened?”

“He broke up with me,” Chenle whispered, the words tasting foreign in his mouth. “Said love wasn’t enough. Said we were hurting each other.”

Renjun frowned faintly, his eyes drifting toward Jeno’s empty chair. “That doesn’t sound like him.”

“How would you know,” Chenle muttered.

“I see how he looks at you.” Renjun said softly. "He’s quiet, sure, but not cold. If he walked away, it’s not because he stopped caring.”

Chenle looked up, eyes red. “Then why?”

Renjun sighed, tapping a rhythm against the desk. “Maybe he thinks letting go is what you need. Some people convince themselves love only counts if it hurts them first.”

“That’s so stupid.”

“Yeah,” Renjun said. “But it’s human.”

Chenle leaned back, staring blankly at the ceiling. “I can’t just accept that. I can’t just... let it end like this.”

“Then don’t,” Renjun said quietly.

Chenle blinked. “What?”

“Don’t let it end,” Renjun continued. “If you really believe he’s wrong, if you really think there’s something worth saving, then fight for it. Don’t sit here waiting for someone else to fix it.”

He stood, grabbing his umbrella again. “You don’t have to chase him. But don’t let fear be the last thing you both remember.”

Renjun paused at the door, his voice softer now. “You’re braver than you think, Chenle. You just forget it when it’s about you.”

Then he was gone, footsteps fading down the hallway.

The rain hadn’t stopped.

Chenle sat alone in the empty newsroom long after Jeno left, the city’s glow flickering through the glass walls. His hands were cold, trembling against the edge of Jeno’s now empty desk. It still smelled faintly like coffee and aftershave… like Jeno.

He replayed everything in his head. Every smile, every shared lunch, every late night when Jeno had leaned over his screen, soft voice teasing him for overworking. The way he’d always quietly looked after him, never asking for anything back.

And now, all of it was gone.

Chenle tried to breathe, but the sound that came out was closer to a sob.

“I don’t understand,” he whispered to the empty room. His voice cracked. “Why won’t you let me stay?”

He pressed his palms to his eyes, trying to stop the sting.

“You said you loved me,” he whispered. “Why does it feel like you were already saying goodbye long before tonight?”

Superman was untouchable. Someone the world could only look up to.

But Jeno…

Jeno was real.

He was the one who smiled when Chenle was tired. He laughed too loudly when he was nervous. He messed up coffee orders. He looked at Chenle like he mattered more than the chaos outside.

And somehow, that was the thing Chenle couldn’t let go of.

Because it wasn’t Superman Chenle fell for.

It was Jeno.

Who happened to be Superman. The man who was still trying to save the world while breaking his own heart.

And somehow, that made everything worse.

Because now, Jeno was gone.

Renjun’s words echoed in his mind, soft and certain.

“If you really think there’s something worth saving, then fight for it. Don’t let fear be the last thing you both remember.”

Chenle stood abruptly, his chair scraping the floor. He could still hear Jeno’s voice, soft, trembling, final.

"Because if I stay, I’ll keep lying. And you’ll keep getting hurt."

But Chenle didn’t believe that. Not really.

He couldn’t.

His pulse raced as a storm brewed inside him, a mix of anger, love, and something close to desperation. He couldn’t let it end like this. He couldn’t let Jeno hide behind fear forever.

He grabbed his coat and rushed out into the rain, his mind already spiraling with a reckless plan.

If Jeno wouldn’t come back, then maybe Superman would.

Superman always came when Chenle was in danger.

Always.

He’d seen the pattern enough times to know how.

And Chenle was about to give him a reason.

He hated himself for even thinking it but the thought had already taken root, stubborn and unshakable.

If he had to risk everything to make Jeno face him, then so be it.

He stepped into the storm, whispering into the cold air,

“I’m not letting you go. Not like this.”

The storm had worsened by the time Chenle reached the city center.

Lightning clawed at the skyline. Wind whipped through his coat, cold and merciless, but he didn’t stop.

Sirens screamed in the distance.

The ground shook.

A gas explosion.

The kind Superman would never ignore.

Chenle pushed through the barricades, ignoring the shouts of officers and the heat of the fire. He could barely see through the smoke. But he kept going, lungs burning, heart pounding with one reckless thought.

If I have to almost die to see him, then so be it.

A deafening crack split the air. The metal frame above him snapped and began to fall.

And then, wind.

Strong, steady, familiar.

He was weightless for a second before he felt those arms again, unshakable and heartbreakingly familiar.

“Chenle!”

That voice, deep and trembling, relief bleeding through every syllable.

Chenle opened his eyes. Superman hovered in front of him, cape torn, soot streaking his face, eyes blazing with fury and fear.

“Are you insane?” he demanded. “You could have died!”

Chenle managed a small, breathless laugh. “I knew you’d come.”

Superman’s jaw tightened. “That’s not… that’s not something to be proud of.”

“I wasn’t trying to be,” Chenle said softly. “I just needed to see you.”

The rain poured harder, cold and relentless, masking the tears that blurred his vision.

And for a moment, Jeno couldn’t breathe.

Of course.

Of course this was how it had to be.

They had broken up hours ago. He had walked away, and now Chenle had thrown himself into danger again just to see Superman.

Not Jeno.

It hurt.

God, it hurt so much.

Superman set him down on a rooftop, away from the flames. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Superman said, voice low. “Why would you…”

“Because you wouldn’t see me otherwise.”

Superman froze.

Chenle took a trembling breath. “You keep saving me and then disappearing like none of it means anything. But it does. To me, it does.”

He looked up, eyes shining with rain and something deeper. “I love you Jeno.”

Superman’s eyes widened, shock slicing through the exhaustion. “What?”

“I know it’s you,” Chenle said, voice breaking. “I’ve known for a while now. I didn’t want to believe it at first. I told myself it was impossible. But the way you look at me, the way you worry, the way you sound… I’d know you anywhere.”

“Chenle—”

“I’m not mad,” Chenle whispered. “I was, for a while. But not anymore. I just…” his voice cracked, “I just wish you trusted me enough to tell me.”

Jeno turned away, the rain running down his face like he could hide behind it. “You weren’t supposed to know.”

Jeno hesitated, shoulders tense. “Because I’d lose you,” he said finally. “One way or another.”

Chenle froze, staring at him. “You already did.”

The words sliced clean through the noise. The only sound left was the rain, soft against the rooftop.

Chenle shook his head, tears spilling freely now. “You think not telling me keeps me safe? Jeno, you’ve saved me more times than I can count. I’ve already been in danger long before I ever found out who you were.”

“That’s exactly why I can’t—”

“No,” Chenle interrupted, his voice cracking open. “You don’t get to decide that for me. You don’t get to walk away because you think it’s noble. I don’t want Superman’s protection. I want you.”

Jeno’s breath hitched. “Chenle—”

“It’s you I fell in love with,” Chenle said, the words tumbling out like they’d been waiting for years. “Not the hero. Not the cape. You.”

He took a shaking step forward, his eyes pleading. “You, who makes bad coffee but insists on brewing it every morning. You, who stays late just to make sure I eat something. You, who panics when I’m hurt but still tries to hide it behind a smile. You, who laughs quietly when you think no one’s listening.”

Rain dripped down from his chin, mixing with the tears. “It just so happens the man I fell in love with is also Superman. But that doesn’t change who you are to me. It never did.”

His voice broke entirely now, raw and desperate. “So please, don’t walk away. Don’t make me lose both of you.”

Jeno’s throat closed. Every word cut deeper than the last, and he hated how much it hurt to love him. How impossible it felt to keep him.

He reached out, fingers brushing against Chenle’s cheek, trembling. “You don’t understand,” he whispered. “I’m everything that hurts you. I can’t keep saving you and pretending I’m not the reason you’re always in danger. Being with me... it comes with things you shouldn’t have to carry. And I can’t let that be your life.”

Chenle looked up at him, voice barely a whisper. “Then stop being Superman for a second. Just be mine.”

The rain slowed. Thunder rolled faintly in the distance, like the world itself had gone quiet for them.

Jeno stared at him, this boy who had seen through everything he’d ever tried to hide, and felt his heart shatter under the weight of love and fear.

He cupped Chenle’s face with both hands, his thumb tracing the curve of his jaw. “I’ve always been yours.”

Chenle smiled weakly through his tears. “Then don’t leave.”

Jeno’s voice trembled. “I don’t know how to stay.”

“Then learn,” Chenle whispered. “With me.”

For a long moment, they stood there, soaked, shaking, breathing the same broken air.

Then Jeno leaned forward, voice cracking. “I love you.”

“I know,” Chenle said, voice trembling. “That’s why I kept running to you.”

Before Jeno could answer, Chenle grabbed his collar and pulled him close, crashing their mouths together. The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was desperate, soaked in rain and everything they hadn’t said.

When they finally broke apart, Chenle’s breath came out in sharp bursts. “You don’t get to walk away again,” he said, eyes fierce through the tears. “Because if you do, I’ll find you. I’ll run into another burning building if I have to. I’ll make you come save me.”

“Chenle,” Jeno’s voice shook. “Don’t joke about that.”

“I’m not joking,” Chenle whispered. “You keep saying I’m safer without you, but I’m not. I’m lost. I’m reckless. The only time I ever feel safe is when you’re near me. So if the only way to see you is to be in danger, then fine. I’ll take that risk.”

Jeno’s expression broke, fear, love, and helplessness all colliding in his eyes. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think it.”

“Then stay,” Chenle said. “Stay, and I won’t have to.”

The storm howled around them, but neither moved.

Jeno’s hands trembled as he reached up, brushing the wet hair from Chenle’s face. “You’re impossible,” he whispered, voice barely holding. “You terrify me.”

Chenle smiled weakly through the rain. “Then we’re even.”

Jeno let out a shaky laugh, the kind that cracked under its own weight. “If I stay, you have to promise me something.”

Chenle nodded. “Anything.”

Jeno’s eyes softened, the hero and the man both stripped bare. “No more running into danger. No more trying to make me come to you that way. Not because I don’t want to save you, but because I can’t keep watching you almost die. Every time you’re in danger, I lose a part of myself. And if anyone ever figures out what you mean to me,” his voice broke, “they’ll use you to destroy me.”

Chenle’s throat tightened. “Then we’ll make sure they never find out.”

Jeno’s breath hitched. “You’d really do that? Live like that?”

“If it means I get to have you,” Chenle said softly, “then yes.”

For a long moment, Jeno just stared at him, rain sliding down his face, heart warring with reason. Then he stepped forward and pulled Chenle into his arms, not as Superman, not as a savior, but as a man finally giving in.

His voice was quiet against Chenle’s ear. “Then we’ll figure it out. Together.”

Chenle smiled, clutching him tightly. “Together.”

Above them, the storm began to fade.

The rain fell softer now, almost tender, washing away the smoke and fear.

And for the first time in a long time, Jeno didn’t feel like he was choosing between the man he was and the hero he had to be.

He was just Jeno, holding the only person who ever made him feel human.

That night, they stayed up until the rain faded, talking quietly between half laughs and half tears.

No more secrets.

No more running.

When the sky finally softened into dawn, they fell asleep tangled together, the city below them quiet for the first time in weeks.

The city was finally calm.

No fires. No sirens. Just the hum of life returning to normal.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Jeno didn’t wake to the sound of chaos. He woke to sunlight spilling through the curtains.

And beside him, Chenle was fast asleep, face half buried in the pillow, breathing soft and even.

Jeno watched him for a long moment, memorizing every detail, the faint crease between his brows, the way his hair fell over his eyes, the small smile that lingered even in sleep.

It still didn’t feel real.

That Chenle knew.

That he stayed.

That somehow, after everything, they’d found their way back.

A soft groan broke his thoughts.

Chenle rolled over, blinking at the light. “You’re staring again.”

Jeno smiled faintly. “You’re drooling again.”

Chenle snorted, tossing a pillow at him. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Jeno caught it easily, laughter bubbling out. “Breakfast?”

Chenle stretched, messy hair everywhere. “I’ll cook.”

Jeno blinked. “You cook?”

Chenle gave him a look. “I chef. Don’t underestimate me, Lee Jeno.”

And true enough, half an hour later, the apartment smelled like heaven.

Tomato egg soup with radish, fried rice, fried pork, and scallion oil noodles. Chenle moved around the kitchen with ease, sleeves rolled up, humming softly under his breath.

Jeno leaned against the counter, watching him, eyes warm and quiet. “I could get used to this.”

“You’d better,” Chenle said, setting down a plate. “Because I’m not doing this for anyone else.”

They ate together at the small dining table by the window, morning light painting the edges of their world in gold. For once, there were no deadlines, no disasters, no secrets hanging between them,. Just the quiet rhythm of two people learning to breathe again.

When Chenle finally leaned back, satisfied, he looked at Jeno with a small smile. “So… what now?”

Jeno hesitated, then smiled. “Now, we live.”

Chenle tilted his head. “No more saving the city?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then no more dying for headlines.”

Jeno chuckled. “Deal.”

They clinked their mugs together, a soft sound but it felt like a promise.

Later, as Chenle stood by the window, watching the clouds drift past, Jeno came up behind him, slipping his arms around his waist.

“Thinking about flying again?” Chenle asked, his voice light.

Jeno pressed his forehead to Chenle’s shoulder. “Maybe. But not alone this time.”

Chenle turned, smiling faintly.

And when Jeno kissed him, gentle, grounding, full of everything they hadn’t said, the world outside seemed to hold its breath.

Somewhere beyond the clouds, the sun broke through.

And for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t answering a call for help this time.

He was answering the one in his heart.

Notes:

I lied. Besides delusion, I was also running on caffeine and rage. Running? Oh yes. I was running from responsibilities. I finished this instead of the report that is due soon. I want to quit my job, lol.

But look at what good came out of it! I’d been looking for a Superman Jeno story since I saw the movie months ago. The draft got revised almost every time I opened my notes. It’s gone from being patterned after the movie to… this. And honestly? I like this better.

Partly because as time goes on, I’ve slowly forgotten what happened in the movie, and I can’t remember a lot of other Superman details from years ago when I was really into it. So I just focused on them being in love because that’s what I live for. Thank you.

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Up in the Sky

alwaysjenle

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