#2: Let us go then (You and I)

[lordchen]

Prompt: #2
Title: Let us go then (You and I)
Pairing: Chen/Baekhyun
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: usage of alcohol, mentions of prostitution, drunk(ish) sex, cursing, violence, soufflé abuse
Word count: 31.8k
Summary: Jongdae thinks it should be easier being a superhero with tons of adoring fans. It’s not.
Author's note: Thank you so much to all the mods for running this and helping me whenever I needed a hand! And also thank you to my beta who got this back to me in such a short span of time and who I couldn’t have done this without – you are the bestest! The title of this was taken from T.S. Eliot’s “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.”



The fire is still blazing by the time Jongdae and Minseok arrive at the scene. Flames the size of skyscrapers flick upwards towards the sky, illuminating the crowd of onlookers that have gathered around the yellow tape roped around the ruins. Encircled within the flames, the shell of a factory looms forwards, crumbling into itself with a massive groan. Almost like a portal to hell, Jongdae thinks. He can feel the searing heat through his mask and it's enough to make him take a step backwards.

He remembers Junmyeon calling two hours ago, voice frantic across the phone detailing a factory explosion heard two miles south of Seoul. As two of MAMA's most prominent superheroes, Jongdae and Minseok, or better known as Chen and Xiumin, were sent to deal with the perpetrator, but when Jongdae stands in front of the building now, there's not much to do but watch as the steel structure gives way with an ear-deafening screech, twisting in an oddly graceful manner to destruction. Splaying his hand in front of him as if it could ward off the heat, Jongdae whistles, impressed. "Suho's not going to be happy about this." He squints into the building, trying to see past the flickering flames. "Want to call it in? We should probably let the police take over now."

The culprit is probably long gone by now, but Minseok shakes his head. "Nah, let's take another look out back." And Jongdae doesn't need to ask to know why. Whoever caused the fire had to be powered. The fire burns too big, too hot for it to be caused by a random arsonist. "Suho wouldn't send us here if he didn't want us to check it out before the fire department came," Minseok says.

The back of the building isn't as damaged and the flames don't burn as high. Jongdae kneels down, examining a piece of charred metal thrown outwards by the initial blast. The surface is warm underneath his fingers and he turns it over, tracing the remaining letters that had been engraved within the metal. SM IND-. He'd seen the name before, memory lurking at the edge of his mind, but for some reason he can't seem to recall it and it bothers him, remaining just outside his reach. "Xiumin," he calls, holding the piece up in the air. "Look at this."

But Minseok remains standing, brow furrowed. "The thing is," he says, ignoring Jongdae, "We finished registering all the powers in the city a few years ago. There shouldn't be any running around in the city without our approval. Suho's been tracking them for ages and he would've known if any of them had made a move."

Jongdae shrugs, tosses the piece back into the fire and watches it succumb to the heat. He's been partners with Minseok ever since he had graduated from the Academy and Minseok has always been the more apprehensive of the two, which was probably why Suho paired them together in the first place. Minseok is cool-headed while Jongdae is impatient. Rational where Jongdae is instinctual. It's probably also why Minseok treated Jongdae as a child until Jongdae had saved Minseok from succumbing to a flesh-eating ladybug in their fourth case together. But ever since then, they've built an implicit trust that has allowed them to become one of the most successful duos in the division.

"We can take a closer look if you want? It'll probably be another few minutes before the firefighters arrive," Jongdae offers.

Squatting down, Minseok presses his finger into the dust and frowns. "No, you're right. We should just call it in. I don't think there's anything we can do except watch this place burn. Neither of us is water-powered."

Jongdae opens his mouth to reply, but a sudden pain explodes in side, and he crumples down, vision white with pain. His rib feels as if it is about to split in two, but he gets to his knees, swaying as the motion sends the world spinning around him. Faintly, he can see two masked figures descend on Minseok, who whips out a blast of ice in time to block against the attack. They stumble, but continue their advance, one sidestepping Minseok in a swift, clean motion, before bringing an elbow down onto Minseok's neck and Jongdae watches in horror as Minseok falls, unable to react.

He pushes himself up, wincing as the motion sends red, hot pain spiking at his side again, and turns to face the two figures. Electricity thrums just underneath the surface of his skin and he launches himself at the one standing over Minseok, latching onto the man's arm viciously. The man doesn't fall however, and as if immune to the shock traveling through Jongdae, he spins and throws them both into the ground. The blow knocks both of them out of breath and as Jongdae pants harshly through his teeth, he tries desperately to regain his hold on the masked figure.

Somewhere behind him, Minseok is grappling with the other one, but Jongdae has no thought to spare as a hand forcefully presses him down with brutal efficiency, pinned to the ground. They've gotten too close to the fire and he can feel the searing heat of the flame on his cheek as he tries to roll over. His face burns hot, and as he looks into the mask hovering above him, he swears he can see a hint of a victorious smile under the fabric. Desperate to escape, he thrashes under the hold, kicking out when the man presses down harder, undeterred by the electric current Jongdae tries to send through him. His foot hits flesh and the man snarls, grip loosening as he flinches away. Taking advantage of the distraction, Jongdae swipes out blindly and breaks free. He rolls away from the fire with coughs racking his chest. "Xiumin," he croaks, scrabbling to pull himself up.

In an instant, Minseok is at Jongdae's side, hand a vice around Jongdae's arm, and yanking him to his feet. "Go," he yells, and they take off into the cluster of buildings spared by the fire. Behind them, the two figures follow in close pursuit. At another time, Jongdae thinks, they could've outrun them, but Minseok's stumbling with heavy limp and he himself feels as if a knife had cleaved him in the side, splitting his chest with every breath he takes.

"Can you fight?" He asks, sucking in a deep breath of the hot air. His legs burn, but he forces himself to shove aside the pain.

Minseok shakes his head, face scrunched. "It's like I can't touch them. The ice doesn't affect them at all." And Jongdae remembers how the one he fought had thrust his hand into the current running through Jongdae's skin, thrown him down with ease. He'd spent so long buoyed by the sheer power of his electricity that it was eerily disconcerting to see how easily the tables had turned, made him prey to an evolved hunter.

Underneath their feet, gravel changes to pavement as they flee into the deserted streets, sun beating at them overhead. The buildings had once housed workers, but as the factory had transitioned from assembly lines to automation, they gradually became deserted. The houses still stand however, and as Jongdae cranes his head back to catch sight of two wraith like figures drawing closer in the distance, he makes the decision. Making a sharp turn, he wrenches open one of the doors, old rusted lock crumbling in his hands. There's a stairway up to the roof and he thinks that just maybe if they can get up there before they are caught, he would be able to get a signal out to Junmyeon before it's too late.

Each breath digs into his side like knives as he stumbles up the stairs, pulling Minseok up. Behind him, he can hear the clatter of their pursuers crashing through the old house and tumbling through furniture and dust alike. Suddenly, there's a sharp cry and Minseok is torn out of his grip, leaving whiplash in his wake. Caught at the edge of the stairs, right in front of the rooftop door, Jongdae turns, gripping the handle tightly. Minseok is clutching at the railing, caught in the wood as the decaying stairs had collapsed underneath his step. On the other side of the room, the door bursts open as the two figures run in, and Jongdae freezes, looking at the door and then Minseok again. A roar fills his ears and he's caught, balanced on the edge of desperation and fear.

Minseok is screaming and as Jongdae looks into the loose wires visible through the cracks in the ceiling, the words register.

Bring it down.

Uncertain, Jongdae looks up one last time. Minseok scrabbling at the wood stairs hopelessly. The figures cutting through the room like ghosts. The sun shining too bright in his eyes through the open door.

"Do it," Minseok yells again, voice cracking under the strain.

Taking a deep breath, Jongdae presses his hand to the wall, letting the electricity simmer under his skin. And as Minseok looks up wildly, Jongdae lets it all go, overloading all the circuits.

The last thing he remembers is the house crashing around them.

---

The last time Jongdae sat in Junmyeon's office, he was twenty-two and had just spiked his training partner's coffee with alcohol. In his defense though, Yoongi really needed to get that stick out of his ass and make a move on that new trainee he was head over heels in love with. The resulting punishment of twenty laps around the track had been a worthy tradeoff for the memory of Yoongi's horrified face when Jongdae accidentally opened the closet door and found him sucking faces with his new beau. Watching Yoongi stumble around with a ridiculous pair of socks hanging off his ears was just a plus, but apparently Junmyeon hadn't thought the same.

The room is still as cold as he remembers, with the chair he's currently sitting in residing directly underneath the air conditioner's icy blast.

For someone so prim and proper, Junmyeon is surprisingly messy. There's stacks of papers spilled all over his desk, a half-eaten takeout box teetering at the edge a trashcan and a pile of clothes kicked under a bookshelf in the corner. Evidence of Junmyeon's presence permeates every inch of his office and in all honesty, Jongdae wouldn't be surprised if he lived in the office. The last time they went out for drinks after a new case closed, Junmyeon had brought a box of paperwork and spent the night with one hand clutching a wine glass and the other a slender pen.

Jongdae is about to begin examining the action figurines lining Junmyeon's computer when the door bangs open and Junmyeon sweeps in with another pile of folders, looking exhausted. The movement sends a gust of air throughout the small room, and Jongdae shivers, hit again by the chilled blast of the air conditioner.

"Busy day?"

"Like you wouldn't believe. The media is all over your case already. And to top it off, the trainee building caught on fire again," Junmyeon says with a tight smile. He lets go of the stack of folders so that it falls to the desk with a thud. His suit is perfectly pressed, crisp and clean, a juxtaposition against the mess surrounding him. But then again, Junmyeon with his sly smiles and closed off eyes is rarely easily understood.

"Haven't you ever felt the urge to light something on fire when you were sixteen?"

Junmyeon fixes a stare on him. Once, Jongdae had tried to look up Junmyeon in the database after graduating into a full time superhero. Kim Junmyeon (code name Suho) was one of the youngest graduates of the MAMA trainee system, passing all of his classes with flying colors with his exceptional manipulation of water in urban landscapes. Whatever life Junmyeon had before and after that is locked, accessible only to the highest levels. They say Junmyeon's only a couple years older than Jongdae though -- having risen through the ranks rapidly to head the Seoul division at the young age of 26. But there are times when Jongdae feels as if he uses decades of experience to be extra judgmental. Like today.

"Anyways," Junmyeon clears his throat, "The factory that was destroyed is important enough to raise questions, but we've warded off reporters for a short while. We're keeping things down low for now until we can solidify some of the details."

Jongdae frowns, picking at the thread unravelling at his sleeve. "What do you mean? Me and Minseok checked out that burning factory already. And I already handed in the report. Two unregistered powers set the building on fire and then tried to attack us. But I'm pretty sure I caught them when I brought down the rest of the complex on us."

"When we found you two beneath the rubble, the powers you described were already gone. Do you remember what happened after you brought the house down? Are you sure there were only two powers after you?"

Shaking his head, Jongdae thinks back to that day, the bright sunlight pounding against his eyes, the shrill screech of metal twisting around them and most of all, the hollow lethargy that had occurred after he emptied all his energy into the circuits. There had only been two attackers. That he knew. But had the two escaped then? He can't remember. All he recalls is waking up in the hospital three days after, healed of most wounds save for a couple token bruises and scratches and feeling as if he had gone through the washer twice.

"There were only two of them, but the rest I don- I can't remember," he says, tongue thick.

The edge of Junmyeon's mouth tightens briefly and something unpleasant settles in Jongdae's gut.

"Never mind then," Junmyeon says, fingers running through his hair distractedly.

"Look. We have a bigger problem. I had a team look into the fire after you two were incapacitated and they found out how the culprits might have managed to create a fire of that scale despite the safeguards that were set in place. Whoever did this was smart. A metal power took out the security measures set in place and an ice power froze whatever water in the system that might have been used to put out the fire before any harm was done. But more importantly, since the factory is going to be down for some time, we're going to be short on some resources. It's going to be a while before we can work at full power again."

Comprehension dawns on Jongdae as remembers the logo he had found at the factory. SM INDUSTRIES. The same name that was printed across all of their standard issue gear. How could he have forgotten? He presses his hands against the desk, frustrated. Besides him, Junmyeon's row of action figures wobbles.
"Do you need help then? I can put in some extra shifts?"

Junmyeon sighs, interlacing his hands. This time, he looks Jongdae straight in the eye.

"Take some time off. You deserve it. Yixing and Taehyung have already agreed to take your shifts. We're stretched thin enough as it is and we can't afford to support any other teams in the field right now."

"Is this because of what happened? I'm fine," Jongdae points out, feeling slightly betrayed. "Minseok and I are the best you have." And they were. A 90% success rate over the three years they had worked together. The best of the best.

"You are," Junmyeon says placidly, "but even you can't be sent out alone."

"What do you mean?" An action figure teeters at the edge of Junmyeon's computer and Jongdae tries to push it back onto the ledge.

"Have you spoken to Xiumin since coming back?"

No. He shakes his head. The ledge shakes again under his fingers, precariously balanced.

"Xiumin's going to have to stay at the hospital for a couple more weeks. The concussion he sustained from the explosion is enough to put him out of action until he is cleared. And we don't have any free agents to partner you up with until then."

Oh. Guilt hits him like a punch to the gut and Jongdae freezes, not sure what to say. It's true he hadn't been in contact with Minseok since he got out of the hospital, but then again, Minseok always liked to have some time to himself after a particularly stressful case. The image of Minseok, caught in the staircase, watching the ceiling come down in a tempestuous blast of debris, loops in Jongdae's head. Stuck between the rotten floorboards, he would have helplessly looked upwards into the oncoming storm Jongdae summoned as it swept in, tearing through wood, carpet and metal.

The whole row of figurines fall, cascading to the ground in a slow, graceful motion, but Jongdae doesn't register, can't register the noise. Scrunching his eyes shut, as if it could wash away the montage playing in his head, he inhales shakily. "I didn't realize. I'm sorry - I should go check on him." Before Junmyeon can reply, he's out of his seat and rushing out the door.

---

It's not that they don't get badly injured, walking the thin line between celebrity and hero. The last time Jongdae took a case out in Busan, a raging steel power rampaged through him and two other buildings before Minseok took her down with a well-placed blow. Though the well wishes and gifts from fans had almost been worth the two week hospital stay and the harrowing lecture from Junmyeon after. Almost.

But it's different seeing Minseok wrapped in gauze. Minseok who can take down Seoul lowlifes with one hand tied behind his back. Who can knock down five beers at the bar without batting an eye, rake in the fans with a flirty smile that is both an invitation and a dismissal.

There's a still healing scratch on the side of Minseok's otherwise smooth cheek and when Jongdae closes the quietly door behind him, the gash stretches in tandem with the movement of Minseok's cheek as he yawns. The room smells like antiseptic and cool metal. And under the harsh fluorescent lighting, Jongdae counts each breath Minseok takes, a steady rise and fall that reminds him of just how close they had cut it that day. Keeping an eye on Minseok's closed eyes, Jongdae makes his way to the steel chair by the bedside.

"How many?"

Minseok's eyes stay shut, but Jongdae can swear he can see the hint of a smile making its way up the corner of his mouth.

"None," he replies, laying his well wishes card on top of fifty others piled on top of the nightstand.

"Bullshit," Minseok snorts, "I saw fifteen last time I was here. There's definitely more than fifteen fans gathered outside my door right now. One tried to break in last night through the window dressed in only her lingerie."

"Like anyone would want to see your ugly face."

Minseok laughs, finally opening his eyes to look at Jongdae. "When have they ever been here to see my face?" He shakes his head. "Nah they're just here for the mask. I keep it by the gifts now - just in case. You didn't visit me by the way."

Three years ago, Jongdae might have taken the lilt in Minseok's' voice as accusation. He knows him well enough now to pick out the traces of humor and worry, but it doesn't stop the guilt from settling in. "I didn't realize you were here," he says apologetically, looking away. "You always take some time off after our cases so I just assumed - I'm sorry."

But Minseok just shakes his head, smiling warmly and slinging his arm over Jongdae's shoulder even though he has to drag Jongdae closer to do so. "I was pretty much out of it until yesterday anyways so you visiting wouldn’t have really done anything. At best, you would have stared at my drugged up brain spewing dumb things until you finally got sick of me and left."

"I know - but I still should have check-"

"It's fine," Minseok says, cutting Jongdae off before he can apologize again. He smiles again. "Besides, I got to enjoy all my new gifts in peace. I have three new laptops and counting by the way. The girls love me."

"What a heartbreaker," Jongdae laughs, "I got twice as that when I was in here, you know? Had half the city pining over my beautiful face."

"Just give it a few weeks and I'll match that - the presents are still rolling in. City's beloved superhero wounded in action while defending critical factory? The press loves it already."

"That's right," Jongdae remembers soberly, thinking of the crowd of reporters lurking outside of Minseok's room. If his identity hadn't usually been concealed by his mask, he was sure that they would have been all over him too. "Junmyeon wants to keep things under wraps for now. He says there's a chance that there might be more to this than we thought."

Minseok frowns. "Junmyeon? Didn't you already hand our report in to him? The case seemed pretty simple."

"Apparently the two that were chasing us got away. And neither we nor the police have been able to trace them since then. Junmyeon's been meeting with them for days - it looks pretty serious though. There's talks that we're going to be fully collaborating with the police for the next couple months until this is all figured out. Yoongi says he and his partner are going out to the factory again tomorrow with the police to take another look."

"We haven't been this involved with the police in years though," Minseok says. His gaze is skeptical. "Are you sure?"

Two or three days ago, Jongdae would have been in the same boat as Minseok. They don't work with police. While many of their cases overlap, collaboration is strictly limited to information sharing. They've never actually partnered with the police in investigating potential crimes. As integrated as they are in civilian life, there still remains a barrier between superheroes and those they protect - the mask they wear is a persistent reminder of that. They are supposed to be the best of the best - a final stand between the paranormal nature of powers and the fragility of humanity, between the monsters lurking around the corner and the people they are sworn to protect - and it's understood that this can only happen if they were elevated above all others. MAMA handles the powers, the police handles the rest, and that's the way it's always been.

"Well, I went in for interviews already and they'll probably want to get your story too," Jongdae replies with a shrug.

Minseok reclines back with a groan. "It's not like I would be able to add anything new to your story anyways. I trust you did a thorough job in the interview, so what's the point? At least the police might have better success in controlling the media, I guess. I heard reporters have already dubbed the two as the Ghosts of Seoul. "
Jongdae cringes. "Aren't you supposed to avoid watching TV because of your concussion anyways?"

"I persuaded a nurse to bring in a radio for me to listen," Minseok grins, all sharp and dangerous. For a second, his muscles coil, and Jongdae half expects him to explode into action. Being cooped within a hospital room for days has never been easy for either of them. "For something that's supposed to be kept down low, there's already been a lot of information leaked surrounding the case. It's been the prime topic of discussion for days now. They all want to if it was an isolated attack or not."

"Probably not, they got out remember? And by the way they were coming at us, I doubt they would stop what they are doing right now."

"Right," Minseok pauses, chewing at his lip, "I was going to ask you this before, but are you sure? There's no way they would have gotten out of that explosion. I saw them go down in front of me. Hell that explosion knocked both of us out and we've been dealing with your electric stunts for years. How could they have survived, much less escaped?"

Jongdae swallows hard. He'd run the scene through his mind millions of times since then and he still can't figure it out. And it looks like Minseok can't either. "All we know is that sometime around 2:00 in the afternoon last Thursday, assailants snuck in, took out the security, hydration system and set a factory we partner with on fire. 20 minutes later, we show up, get attacked and blow up a house trying to bring them down with us."

"So you're saying those two took out the fire and security system of one of the most protected complexes in the world? They would only have had 2o minutes to do so too," Minseok interrupts, eyebrows furrowed.

"A team was sent in after us to take a look at the wreckage - they used powers to do so - which would explain why it took them such a short time to do so much damage. A metal power corroded the security system, knocking it offline for an hour or so before the backup system could kick in. They then froze the water system so that it couldn't put out the fire."

"And a fire power set the building on fire?"

Jongdae nods and Minseok leans back into the blankets, rubbing his eyes. "What a mess, no wonder Junmyeon doesn't want us running to the press. Three unregistered powers running around setting fires? There's no way Junmyeon isn't feeling the pressure right now. He did promise to register all powers when he took over the department. Did they confirm that the two who attacked us were also responsible for the fire?"

"Jungkook from forensics managed to salvage some of the security footage. It was definitely the two of them," Jongdae replies.

Minseok freezes. "Wait, just the same two?"

For a moment, Jongdae stares at him in confusion before it hits him. Oh. While the process behind powers still isn't fully understood, it had been widely accepted that no single person could possess more than one. It's just never happened before. One person, one power. At least that's the way it had been until now. If someone stepped forward bearing more than one power, it would overthrow everything they had thought they'd known about how powers worked.

"Shit," he hisses, scrambling for his phone. "Should I tell Junmyeon?" he asks, finger poised over the button that would connect him directly to Junmyeon's cellphone.

"No," Minseok says, shaking his head. "Junmyeon probably already knows. That's why he doesn't want the press to know yet. Can you imagine the panic if the public found out? Two insurgent arsonists running around will cause hesitation, fear maybe - but two wild powers, one of which may who may be more powerful than anyone we’ve ever seen before, will cause pandemonium. And they're both still out there."

Crumpling back into his seat, Jongdae buries his head in his hands. "We can't do anything about it either. Did you hear? I'm out for now, too. Junmyeon won't send me out alone." He wonders if this is what it was like to live without powers. Like a trapped animal, clawing at the glass boundaries of what he cannot touch. When he first became one of MAMA's trainees, he had thought he could finally make a difference. He had thought the same when he finally graduated and pledged his years to a life of protecting those who were not strong enough to do so themselves. And he's never regretted the decision since. He wears his scars like medals of valor, relives their victories as flashes of motivation to work harder, do better. But now that he's out of the action, the frustration builds as he watches helplessly at the sidelines.

"There's no way the police can take on a double power, even with Yixing's help," he continues, kicking at his chair bitterly under Minseok's reproachful gaze. "And I can't do anything about it."

---

Kyungsoo is a good friend. Most of the times, he magically seems to know when Jongdae is upset and buys drinks for him accordingly. Or maybe Jongdae is just really bad at hiding when he's mad. Or sad. Or both. But he's smart, Do Kyungsoo, officer with one of the highest solving rates in Seoul's police department, who plies Jongdae with brightly colored cocktails while Jongdae mopes at the bar and then drags his ass back home when he's too drunk to see straight.

"What would the fangirls say if they saw Chen, famed superhero, getting drunk at the bar like a common drunk?" Kyungsoo's lethal too, with both his words and guns, but if there's one thing that Kyungsoo is good at, it's his ability to hit where it doesn't hurt.

Jongdae sets his drink down with a thud. It's a Blue Lagoon this time and as he swirls the little umbrella around, the blue liquid swirls in a bright splash of color in the dingy bar. For some reason, the more depressed he is, the more colorful the drinks arrive. "It's Jongdae today," he says, sullenly. "I'm off duty tonight. Tomorrow. Maybe forever. Two years of training and here I am, out of work indefinitely until Junmyeon gets over his ass and puts me back in the field."

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes and rests his chin on his hands. "Don't you think you're overreacting a little? You and Minseok have cracked more cases than any other team for the last three years. Junmyeon's not going to keep you out forever."

"Yes, but we always get the big cases," Jongdae says plaintively. He's being irrational and childish, but the alcohol has loosened his tongue enough so he doesn't care. "And we always do good with them too."

"You've been overworking yourself over the big ones for the last couple of years. Take a break and let someone else handle them for once." Kyungsoo points out. "At this rate, you're not going to last another ten years. I haven’t seen you take a vacation since that time Minseok and I forced you on a plane to Hawaii. When was the last time you took a day off?"

Jongdae pauses, struggling to think back. "Last Christmas? Maybe?"

"Last Christmas you took off in the middle of dinner to save the west side of Seoul from a trigger happy flower power." Jongdae opens his mouth to argue, but Kyungsoo cuts him off. "Don’t argue with me, Kim Jongdae. I know because I was there." For a moment he stops, eyes glinting with challenge under the dim lights. "And on Chuseok, you promised to take a week off and visit your grandparents, but then left for a trip to China to help take down some kazoo power in Shanghai."

"Aren't you supposed to be trying to make me feel better right now?"

"Aren't you supposed to be taking care of yourself now that you're 26?" Kyungsoo fires back.

Under fire, Jongdae slouches down in his chair and attempts to come with some rebuttal, but he can't, taking another sip of his drink in defeat. Staring into the shelf of alcohol across from him, he absentmindedly plays with his power, letting sparks of electricity jump from finger to finger. "I know. I'm sorry," he says at last.

Kyungsoo's stare softens and he uncrosses his legs on the bar stool he's perched on. Soft rock music plays in the background and the door jingles as another customer appears out of the night. It's a Tuesday night so the bar is less crowded than usual, but there's still a steady amount of business trickling in and out as the chatter ebbs and flows at irregular intervals. Unmasked, he blends in with the rest of the crowd and Jongdae briefly wonders if any of the other customers are just like him. Some powers go on to become superheroes, but most remain civilians, incorporating their powers into their daily lives.

When he was five, his mailman had been air powered, dropping off their letters with a wafting stream of air. Jongdae had watched in awe as the slips of paper curled their way through the air towards his house. And at the end, when the mailman got back into his truck, he would turn around and wink, a tucked in message to a boy caught in a dream, and Jongdae would swear that the occurring breeze ruffled his hair, feeling like a lazy whisper on a summer day.

These days, it's not uncommon to walk the streets and see shops adopting to include powers within their business models as well. The massage parlor by his apartment had recently hired a dream power to slip in pleasant images to clients while being massaged. A brother and sister pair down the street from him, a water and ice power respectively, had recently opened their ice sculpture business to the delight of critics and customers alike.

Even the police department in which Kyungsoo works has been incorporating more powers in their investigations. Jongdae's sure that he's not the only power Kyungsoo has worked with, although that line of communication between them is usually kept down to the minimum. They might've become friends after Jongdae had bumped into Kyungsoo while dropping off evidence at the police department, but they liked to keep their business to a minimum while together - except in emergency cases when one of them needed someone to rant to about work issues. Kyungsoo is a welcome reprieve from the constant demands a work and Jongdae is pretty sure it's the same vice versa.

"You should come out with Jongin and I sometimes," Kyungsoo offers, uncharacteristically accommodating. Jongdae thinks he must really look like shit for Kyungsoo to be this nice. "Might as well get out of your apartment once in a while. He misses you."

Jongdae snorts, thinking of Kyungsoo's dancer boyfriend. "No he doesn't. Last time I went out with you guys, I dropped pizza on his shoes and I don't think he's forgiven me since." At this, Kyungsoo cracks smile.

"Come out with us. Seriously. God knows you don't have any other friends to go out with."

"I'm a superhero," Jongdae sniffs. "I don't need friends. I live and die by my upstanding morals. Besides you and Minseok are all that I need."

Kyungsoo looks at him for a second, eyes unreadable, before he finally nods, waving the bartender over for another drink. "But honestly. Call me if you need anything," he says, eyes scanning over the drinks menu for the fifth time that night.
Jongdae nods. "Thanks," he says, throat tight.

Later, as Kyungsoo ushers Jongdae into a cab, world spinning dizzily around him, Kyungsoo presses a slip of paper into Jongdae's hands. Jongdae attempts to cling to Kyungsoo in vain, before finally throwing himself into the cracked leather seat of the cab, fingers wrapped around the paper, a few drinks too many to be standing straight. Squinting at the slip in front of him, he can just make out a string of numbers, scrawled in Kyungsoo's neat handwriting. When he peers up at Kyungsoo, or rather the two Kyungsoo he sees standing in front of him wobbling in and out of focus, Kyungsoo just presses his fingers to his lips.

"Give him a call too, Jongdae," he says. "He might be able to help you out with your problem." And the cab door slams shut.

---

There's something grossly fluffy pressed against his face when he wakes and as Jongdae attempts to open his eyes, he really hopes that it's not his old stuffed pillow. He had promised himself that he would throw it out weeks ago after dropping it into the toilet by accident, but the thought had constantly slipped his mind until today. Forcing himself to roll over, he's met with a blast of sunlight straight to his face and he groans, throwing a hand over his eyes as to ward off the bright light.

A few seconds pass before Jongdae finally decides that waking up is better than battling the constant light directed at his eyelids. He cracks open his eyes, instantly shrinking back when he finds himself staring straight into a stream of sunlight slipping between the blinds. The movement causes a splitting pain to throb in his head and he curses. Never again is he going to go out drinking with Kyungsoo. Although to be fair, that's what he tells himself every time and yet here he is: battling a hangover on a Wednesday morning.

Usually he would have headed out to MAMA headquarters to do some more training, probably procrastinate on doing paperwork and needle Minseok so that he gets them both thrown out of the building until Junmyeon relents and lets them back in again. And maybe, if they were lucky, the siren would sound and they would be sent to deal with some powered issue in town. He can't do any of that today, however, and as he makes his way down his daily routine, it feels oddly empty.

He's washing his clothes for the first time in days when he finds it again, tucked in the back pocket of his jeans, crumpled and dirty. The ink is slightly smeared, but Jongdae can still read it. The number Kyungsoo had handed him the night before. A few dives back into his pile of unwashed clothes to find his cellphone and Jongdae is pressing the numbers.

The phone on the other line rings a couple times, trailing into what feels like forever, before there's a click.

"Hello?" Jongdae's heart stops. The voice, so familiar, stretches forth from several years back to reawaken a feeling of recognition. It's slightly deeper, more serious than he remembers, but there's no way Jongdae could have ever forgotten Park Chanyeol.

"Chanyeol?" he asks, partly out of surprise and partly to reassure himself that he's not dreaming. Who would have thought that someone from years past would deliver him from his problems today?

"Jongdae?"

They had been roommates right out of high school, wandering between the shifting strands of time in a grungy apartment ten minutes outside of Seoul. Jongdae still remembers nights spent under the dingy yellow light, dreaming of the day they could escape their stained walls and leave for a better place. That had been seven years ago. The last Jongdae had heard of Chanyeol was when Chanyeol had graduated into the police force a couple years ago. Now he gets all his updates on Chanyeol through Kyungsoo, who works with Chanyeol in the same department.

"Long time, huh?" Jongdae asks, clutching the phone a little tighter.

There's a chuckle, warm and surprised. "Yeah, small world isn't it? How have you been doing?"

Jongdae thinks of all the things he has to tell, untold stories unearthed over the span of fiveyears, and wonders if Chanyeol has the same number to say. And for a moment, he hesitates, not sure if he's still speaking to the same Chanyeol from years ago, not sure if he has the right to demand Chanyeol to listen because after all, Jongdae had walked out on Chanyeol first.

"I've been good. Got attacked by a burning factory the other day," he settles on. It's slightly cautious, but it’s not overly assertive nor too timid.

"That's rough. Still in the superhero business?"

"Yup."

"Still protecting humanity? Upholding the honorable code of justice? All that righteous stuff?"

"Yup. What about you? Still rescuing old ladies? Extracting cats from trees?"

"It's been pretty busy these days too, you know, police work and all that," Chanyeol laughs. It's still the same unrestrained bark as before. "Got all these new arson cases to figure out. It's official business of course so I can't say too much, but we've figured they're all probably related. I haven't had a good sleep in weeks since I started heading the investigation."

At Chanyeol's reply, Jongdae bolts up, pressing the phone to his ear so hard that it's about to cut off circulation. "Wait, was one of the cases at the SM Factory about a week ago?"

"Yea, why?"

Taking a slight breath to calm himself down, Jongdae speaks into the phone again. "That was mine too," he admits. "Took my partner out of action and now I'm sidelined in the foreseeable future. And the damn suspects got away too. I don't know what to do now."

Chanyeol falls silent and for a moment, Jongdae thinks that he'd hung up. "Is that why you called? To get information? We've already shared all our files with you over the official lines. There's nothing outside of that that I can add." There's a thread of hesitation laced within the tight cadences of his voice and Jongdae instantly feels regretful.

"Nah," he lies, "We haven't talked in a while and I figured it was probably time to catch up. How long has it been? Three? Four years?" There's a silence and Jongdae holds his breath and waits. The clock hung lopsided on his wall ticks by, counting the seconds dragging out in eternities.

"Sure," Chanyeol finally says, but the tightness is gone and Jongdae exhales slightly. "You totally missed me," he teases, thankfully changing the direction of the conversation to avoid topics Jongdae isn't ready to talk about yet.

"I did," Jongdae snickers and this time it's the truth. He misses the late nights, the breakdowns, the fun. "I have no friends now. I'm going to die old and lonely and no one is going to come to my funeral."

"Visit me a couple times and I'll consider sending my condolences when you die," Chanyeol barters. "Maybe consider bringing me food when you do so and I might toss in some flowers too."

"Done," Jongdae replies instantly and he can almost hear the surprise across the line.

"It's funny," Chanyeol hums, "I was just talking to Kyungsoo about how I wanted to get in touch with you again the other day. You changed your number so I couldn't figure out how to contact you now that you were some bigshot superhero. Even your address can't be accessed by us and I'm pretty sure any letters I would try to send would be buried under all those sent by your adoring fans."

Of course, Jongdae thinks. Leave it to Kyungsoo to take things into his own hands.

"Any particular reason why?"

"I haven't seen you in years. You could sound a little more excited, you know?"

"Sorry," Jongdae says hastily, "It's just that it really has been a while and this seemed to kind of come out nowhere, you know?"

"Anyways, I was thinking of arranging a meet up. Just the three of us. Like the old times."

"You, me and Kyungsoo?" He hadn't realized Kyungsoo and Chanyeol were friends. From what he gathered through Kyungsoo, Chanyeol and Kyungsoo didn't interact that much despite working together.

"Kyungsoo?" Chanyeol exclaims incredulously. "No way. I think he's secretly wanted to kill me ever since the day I compared him to a penguin with angry eyebrows." And alright, Jongdae can give Chanyeol that because it's completely true even though he would never say it to Kyungsoo's face. But the other part isn't necessarily true. Talking to Kyungsoo, Jongdae believes that Kyungsoo thinks of Chanyeol more as an overbearing puppy rather than an annoying pest, and he's about to say so before Chanyeol continues again. " Didn't you hear?"

"Hear what?"

"He didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"About what he was going to do?"

"Chanyeol, just tell me," Jongdae bursts out.

"Baekhyun is coming back."

"He's what?"

Back when Chanyeol and Jongdae had shared an apartment together, Baekhyun had been the third piece to their puzzle, moving in shortly after Chanyeol and Jongdae put an ad up in the newspaper looking for a third person to share the rent. At eighteen, neither of them were well off enough to rent an apartment just outside the boundaries of Seoul by themselves and then Baekhyun had moved in, seamlessly slotting himself within their lives. Two years later, Baekhyun moved out to China to become a singer. Three days after, Jongdae followed him out, trading their crumbling apartment for the sterile walls of MAMA's trainee dorms. Chanyeol moved out last, electing to go into the police force. It had only been two years together, but Jongdae feels as if a lifetime had stretched between the day Baekhyun stepped inside their apartment, scrunched up backpack in tow, and the day he left, slipping through the doors, back into the stream of time that the three of them had sought shelter from.

"He called me the other day," Chanyeol says, "Told me he'll be in Seoul for the next few months and that he wants to meet up."

It figures that Chanyeol would still be in touch with Baekhyun. Jongdae had gradually lost contact with both of them as daily phone calls turned to weekly ones to monthly ones until they fizzled out altogether. But then again, his relationship with Baekhyun had never been like the one Chanyeol had with Baekhyun.

"How is he?" Jongdae tries, unsure of what to say.

"He's some big shot in China now. Came back to bless us with his presence he says," Chanyeol laughs. "You know how he is." And Jongdae understands.

The first time he met Baekhyun, Jongdae had bristled at the presence of the boy in too big shoes who walked into the room like he commanded the world. He had been against Baekhyun moving in until Chanyeol eventually convinced Jongdae to accept the inevitable with a copious amount of promises to do the chores for the next couple months. Baekhyun was too sharp, too wrong to have around with his unchecked snark and insidiously biting sarcasm. And as if sensing Jongdae's antagonism, Baekhyun too, bridled at Jongdae's presence, insidiously leaving his things where he knew they would get in Jongdae's way, smoking on the balcony with the door open because he knew Jongdae's room was closest to the screen door and would become permanently infused the scent of smoke he hated.

It was only when Chanyeol, fed up with Baekhyun and Jongdae screaming the walls down for the third time that month, threw them out of the apartment to talk things out did Jongdae finally understand Baekhyun.

"What's your problem?" Baekhyun had asked, sulking from his spot on the crumbling stairway up to their apartment.

And Jongdae had crossed his arms from where he sat two feet away, refusing to look up at Baekhyun, examining his nails. "What's your problem?"

After, he remembers that Baekhyun had leaned back, tilting his head up so that he peered at Jongdae through his half-lidded eyes. "My mum was a drug addict. My dad ditched me before I was born. I phased out of foster care. And you ask me what my problem is? I moved in because you guys needed someone to split the rent with and you've been nothing but a little bitch since."

Against his will, Jongdae's temper had spiked, and just before he was about to explode, he took a steadying breath to remind himself that Chanyeol would never forgive him if he killed their newly found roommate. "My parents died when I was six. Killed in a hit and run on their evening walk. I grew up with my aunt who despised me with every inch of her being. I got out the minute I turned eighteen and here I am. So tell me, who here has the problem? You didn't see me with the shitty attitude in the beginning" He shot back, smile saccharine sweet.

Baekhyun had stopped, deflated, like Jongdae had blown out his tires just as he was revving to go, before speaking. This time he was softer, a bit remorseful. "It's the only way you can protect yourself. Hurt the world before it can hurt you and it eventually feels normal,” he said. And it'd been the closest thing to an apology Jongdae had received from Baekhyun.

Baekhyun had toned it down afterwards, the incisive personality, but the bravado remained. Though that, Jongdae could deal with. They settled into an uneasy truce that had developed over time into something Jongdae couldn't described. The tension never left, but as if joined by their mutual understanding, they developed an ineffable relationship.

"When does he want to meet?" Jongdae asks Chanyeol, wary, yet hopeful.

"Two days from now? There's a restaurant near the police station that I can run to when on my lunch break. I'll be waiting," Chanyeol replies. "And Jongdae. Come on over sometime, we could take any expertise we can get on the cases."

---

True to his word, Chanyeol is already there when Jongdae arrives, perched at table in the corner, legs still too long, arms still too lanky, but he grins when he sees Jongdae and waves him over. But it's not Chanyeol that Jongdae is focused on, but rather the figure seated next to him, still turned away from Jongdae - Baekhyun. He's skinnier now, having lost some of the baby fat on his cheeks, and his hair is dyed a soft brown that reminds Jongdae of cappuccinos on lazy Saturday mornings, curled up in bed with his laptop while watching the newest chick flick. He hardly looks like a celebrity, curled up in a pair of track pants and sweatshirt with dark sunglasses covering his eyes, but as Baekhyun turns to look at him too, slipping his sunglasses so that they perch on his head, Jongdae's breath catches.

"Jongdae," Baekhyun calls, hopping off the stool to wave Jongdae over and Jongdae slips through the restaurant almost robotically to reach his seat. Time has shaved off the last vestiges of fat from Baekhyun's body, but even as tired as he looks, Jongdae admits that Baekhyun looks good. Perpetually wind-swept hair, broad shoulders, softly lined eyes - the changes are obvious, a stark reminder that they had diverged paths years ago - and Jongdae wonders if Baekhyun is noting the changes in Jongdae while Jongdae is categorizing the changes in Baekhyun, because it's almost surreal that Byun Baekhyun, singer turned actor, darling of China, is standing in front of him right now.

"Baekhyun," Jongdae says and for a second, Baekhyun wavers, shifting back and forth on his feet uncertainly. In the blink of an eye, it's gone however, and Baekhyun grins, reaching out to tug Jongdae in a hug. He still smells like the sea-salt breeze and as Jongdae buries his head in the crook of Baekhyun's neck with a good-natured grin, he pauses to savor the moment. For a moment, they're sitting back in their apartment, windows open in an attempt to let the breeze chase out the tepid humidity, and Baekhyun has his feet propped up on the table, weaving some tale with his big mouth about the people he'd seen at his job at the club, and Jongdae is sitting next to him, slight wind ruffling through his hair, listening with rapt attention.

"It's been a while," Baekhyun breathes, hair tickling Jongdae's cheek, and Jongdae could almost laugh because that's something he's heard a lot lately. "Tell me you missed me," he demands, squeezing Jongdae tighter.

Jongdae laughs. "I missed you." Baekhyun's arms loosen and he steps back to display his gummy smile that Jongdae's missed most of all. "Did you miss me?" he teases.

"Nope," Baekhyun says with mock seriousness and hops back onto the stool next to Chanyeol. "Never even noticed you were gone."

"And here I was hoping you dedicated all your songs to me, oh blessed singer," Jongdae whines, taking a seat between Baekhyun and Chanyeol, closing their loop around the table. "I bet you never spared a thought to your starving and penniless friends back home."

"The fans are my number one priority," Baekhyun recites, smile devastatingly sharp, and besides them both, Chanyeol laughs. "Who needs friends when you have fame and fortune at your fingertips."

"Which is why you were the one that wanted all three of us to meet again," Chanyeol snorts, looking up from where he was buried in the menu. At the reminder, Jongdae's stomach rumbles and he too, looks down at the menu in front of him.

"I asked to talk again," Baekhyun protests, "You were the one who suggested meeting up again."

"Face it, you missed us," Jongdae cuts in and Baekhyun ducks his head, slightly pink. He doesn't reply but the lack of answer makes Jongdae feel warm inside. Jongdae might have spent the last years shaking away off the years he spent in their shared apartment, but seeing both of their faces invigorates a nostalgic longing within him to go back and relive their shared moments.

The waiter comes and takes their orders, or rather Jongdae's and Chanyeol's orders since Baekhyun had declined to order anything. "I'm on a diet," he explains, face scrunched up, "I'm going to be taking on a new role next year and I figured I might as well get ready for it now. Malnourished, angry at the world, characters seem to be in right now - plays on all the teenage angst I guess. Although back in my day, we never bottled that in."

"We know. We were there when you vandalized the shop owner's car for refusing to sell you cigarettes," Chanyeol snickers. "Although I guess a fair warning as a police officer - I'm going to have to arrest you if you try to pull off anything like that now."

Baekhyun waves his hand airily, "I'm beyond petty things now," and Jongdae almost falls out of his chair laughing. If there was one thing Byun Baekhyun had been good at, it was at being petty. Once Chanyeol had ditched Baekhyun at the club to hook up with some girl. The next morning, he woke up to Baekhyun making just enough breakfast to serve two, himself and Jongdae.

"So what's up with the celebrity circuit, these days?" Jongdae asks. "Any interesting gossip? Assuming you know about these things." He raises his eyebrows challengingly.

"Any C-lister who has ears and eyes would be able to figure most of the shit that goes on backstage these days," Baekhyun groans, "You know that new movie that was supposed to come out last month? The one starring Shim Changmin and Sandara Park?"

"The one that was supposed to be a groundbreaking thriller on depicting the gay community?"

"Yup. And guess the reason for its release delay," Baekhyun pauses, as if for theatrical effect, and without waiting for either Chanyeol or Jongdae to answer, he plows on, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Apparently Dara got caught in an affair with one of the extras on set and blew up when the director called her on it. She didn't return to set for weeks."

"Dara?" Chanyeol looks shell-shocked. Baekhyun hums an affirmative and Jongdae has to stifle the laugh that threatens to spill out of his mouth. Even back then, Chanyeol's admiration for the rising movie actress was obvious to the two of them. "She said she hadn't been seeing anyone in years," Chanyeol says, looking a little forlorn.

"You'd be surprised by what goes on behind the scenes. Very few celebrities are true to the image they project. You don't make it there by doing what's right. You do what's good for you, the project, your fans." There's a hint of raw honesty woven in there with filtered want and it's so reminiscent of their midnight conversations, staying up until two in the morning drinking and talking, rushing to the microwave to get their night snacks so that its beep doesn't wake up Chanyeol in the room over, talking with a certainty that both of them will be too drunk to remember the contents of the conversation in the morning.

"Are you speaking from experience?" Jongdae asks.

For the very first time, Baekhyun looks as if he's caught off guard. Something in his smile flickers and Jongdae sees right past his façade of warm eye smiles and coarse laughter. This is Baekhyun as Jongdae remembers him, five years older than he actually is, still trying to play the part of the fool, the hero, the martyr. Jongdae likes to think that he knows Baekhyun inside and out and he can safely say that this is old Baekhyun talking, not the new one who came back from China with gold woven in his clothes, dripping from his tongue, speaking like a herald from the gods.

"You do what you have to," Baekhyun finally says, shrugging, "and it's not all horrible. It's fun, living the life of your dreams. The media loved me you know? A story of rags to riches. An orphan turned celebrity. The world loves that stuff." And then he's closed off again sipping at his drink with an air of nonchalance. Chanyeol stiffens besides him and Jongdae knows that he sees the same, but neither of them are willing to call out the bluff.

"And you're doing good?" Jongdae ventures.

"I love it," Baekhyun says with an air of finality that closes that pathway of the conversation. "What about you, Jongdae? I heard you were a superhero now?"

"Jongdae's one of the best," Chanyeol offers, taking a bite out of his sandwich. "He and his partner have had more solve rates than any other superhero duo. Fangirl club of over ten thousand. They're like the celebrities of the power world."

"Chanyeol too. Don't even get me started on all the achievements he's received at the station," Jongdae says weakly, ducking his head down to hide the blush that's spreading to his cheeks.

"Saving cats and old ladies isn't as interesting as saving the city from a supervillain intent on world domination though," Chanyeol counters. "You should tell Baekhyun some of your crazy stories. Kyungsoo told me about one of them involving a pony-eating flower and its owner, a baseball bat wielding crazy."

Baekhyun peers at Jongdae curiously. "Is it true? There's a superhero division in China, although for a country of such a large size, we use it surprisingly little. Most people still won't accept what they can't understand so there's still been a prejudice against power usage when fighting crime."

"We had that too when we first started. Then our current head took over, Suho, if you've heard of him. He promised to register and strictly regulate all power usage in the city, and that, combined with hundreds of cases solved over the last couple of years, really won the people over. They say we're the reason the crime rate has gone down so much lately," Jongdae says, a little bit proud.

"It's made it a lot easier for us too," Chanyeol admits, running his hand through his hair. "Less people are likely to commit a crime when they know they might have to deal with a superhero. Most of our headaches these days come from powered villains. Though there's been a string of them lately. The factory explosion last week. The fire at the piers the week before. The destruction of a subway station a few days prior to that."

"Wait," Jongdae interjects, "You didn't tell me that before."

Chanyeol just shrugs. "It's a new development in the case. We only noticed it last night when an intern was looking over some of the case files and noticed a pattern of unspecified fires in the city." His phone beeps and as he looks down, his forehead wrinkles. "Speaking of which, there's just been a new one four blocks away from here." He looks up apologetically. "Sorry to have to cut this short, but I have to go check it out.”

"Nah, it's fine," Baekhyun says with a breezy smile, "I have a meeting with my manager at two anyways and I should probably get going." He smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "We should meet up again. Give me your phone, Jongdae" Jongdae blinks, but does as Baekhyun says. "Here, now you have my number. I'll text tonight. We still have a lot of things to get caught up on." He hands Jongdae his phone back, now with the newly entered number in the contacts. "I'll see you guys around." And he's gone with a waggle of his fingers.

"Do you wanna come Jongdae? I did promise I would bring you along sometime," Chanyeol asks, halfway out of his seat already, taking one last bite out of his sandwich. Jongdae stares at his own uneaten salad, forgotten due to their conversation, and nods. "Excellent."

---

The fire is already gone when they get there. Chanyeol strides through the scene, Jongdae following close behind and with a start, Jongdae realizes that it's the first time he's ever been in a crime scene while incognito. He half expects Chanyeol to enter the building, ripped apart by what must have been a massive fire, but Chanyeol instead walks straight into the crowd of officers gathered by the side of the building, safely fifty feet from the ruins.

"Chanyeol," someone calls and Jongdae turns to look. She's short and young, dressed comfortably in the police uniform like the rest of them, but the crowd parts easily for her, weaving seamlessly around her. There's a clipboard in one of her hands, a cellphone in the other, and it’s the hand carrying the cellphone that she uses to wave at Chanyeol. The phone teeters at the edge of her grasp before flipping towards the ground. Before Jongdae can think, he darts in to grab it.

"Tiffany, I'm not replacing your phone if you drop it again," Chanyeol laughs and Jongdae follows along, handing the girl her cellphone.

"Who's your friend?" Tiffany asks, raising her eyebrows suggestively and Jongdae chokes because as much as he loves Chanyeol, there's no way that is ever going to happen between them. "He's kinda cute." Well. That is something Jongdae can deal with.

"Chanyeol didn't tell me he worked with such pretty coworkers," Jongdae tosses back flirtatiously to Tiffany's delight, giving just as much as he takes. "If I'd known about this before, I might have considered asking Chanyeol to take me to work earlier."

Chanyeol scrunches his face up, mirroring Jongdae's earlier disgust. "Hands off. Both of you. And no he's just my friend. He works with MAMA so he's here with me today, although it's not completely official so keep it on the down low. What’s the status?"

Tiffany just pouts slightly, before looking over at Jongdae with a wink. "Five casualties, nine more wounded, although luckily, most of the residents were at work rather than at home. We've already met with the landlord and got a list of their names and I'm running them in the database right now. Here's the list if you're interested." She looks up. "You're surprisingly late today."

"Yeah, I was meeting up with a friend before," Chanyeol replies, looking through the clipboard Tiffany handed him distractedly. The signs of sirens are still blaring in the distance although most of the smoke seems to have cleared. Unsure of what to do, Jongdae looks onto the clipboard over Chanyeol's shoulder, though he has to tiptoe to do so.

"Baekhyun?"

"How did you know?"

"I heard you talking to Kyungsoo about it the other day," Tiffany says, typing something on her phone. Chanyeol hums an acknowledgement, flipping through the pages of the clipboard. "Did you get an autograph at least?"

"Nope."

"Wow, you really don't know how to appreciate the good things in life do you? By the way, we've pretty much confirmed that this is just the latest in a series by the arsonists that've been getting around Seoul lately. Could you at least get me a picture of him?"

Chanyeol frowns, ignoring Tiffany's chatter. "How do you know? The arsonists have never hit residential buildings before. It's mostly been industrial complexes and transportation hubs. If he's beginning to target civilian buildings, his motives are probably changing and it could create a whole new problem. "

"It's the same modus operandi," Jongdae interjects, looking over the building once again. "Look at the extent to which the fire had spread. If the someone had noticed the fire right away, which they probably did due to its sheer size, the fire department should have gotten here in time to stop the fire from taking over the entire building. They're only a block away after all. Whoever did this probably froze the water system which would have slowed the blaze to some extent. I bet if you tried to salvage the security footage, it wouldn't show only signs of fire damage too, it would show distortion from whatever the metal power did to it. It's the same as the factory."

"Looks like homeboy knows his stuff," Tiffany whistles. "You should bring him around more often, Chanyeol. The attacks are also becoming more frequent. They used to have a few weeks interval between each one, but this happened barely a week after the last one."

Chanyeol doesn't reply however, continuing to stare unblinkingly at the clipboard. "Jongdae, you still have Baekhyun's number saved on your phone right?"

Fumbling with his phone, Jongdae scrolls through his contacts until he finds a new number, attached to a small picture of Baekhyun's face that Baekhyun must have taken when he took Jongdae's phone. "Yea," Jongdae says, holding his screen up. "Why?" It's almost odd seeing Chanyeol so businesslike. The Chanyeol forever engrained in his memory has overly big ears and an even bigger laugh. Chanyeol as Jongdae knew him couldn't even walk past a stray dog without taking it home for a couple of nights, until Baekhyun and Jongdae convinced him to take it to the shelter. He kind of misses the old Chanyeol to be honest.

"Baekhyun's name is listed here, along with another name, which is probably his manager's. He must have rented out this apartment for the duration of his stay," Chanyeol says, biting at his lip. "We'll be sending an official phone call later, but why don't you give him a call now to let him now so he doesn't have to scramble for a place to stay later. He can consider it as a personal favor from me."

Jongdae shrugs. Before he can leave however, another police officer approaches them, slipping in between Tiffany and Chanyeol. It's Kyungsoo. And his face looks uncharacteristically grave, even for him, as he speaks to Chanyeol in low undertones. After finishing, Kyungsoo shoots a quick nod at Jongdae's way before slipping back into the mass, quickly disappearing into the swarm of blue uniforms.

"What?" Jongdae asks at Chanyeol's dark expression.

"We got a tip from one of the neighboring buildings about one of the perpetrators and Kyungsoo sent a team to look into it. They caught him a few blocks away and are taking him to the station right now. They want me to take a look right now since things are finishing up here right now. You want to come?"

"Would I say no?" Jongdae says, shooting a flat stare in Chanyeol's direction and Chanyeol chuckles but it's dark and humorless.

---

"His name is Oh Sehun," Kyungsoo fills him in as they walk down the stainless steel corridor. "He's eighteen as far as we know, air powered, and our tip said that he was with the two who set fire to the building. We caught him trying to dump the rest of his gear in a dumpster near the library. Chanyeol's already been in to question him, but he asked for you, surprisingly. Do you know him?"

"Oh Sehun?" Jongdae's never heard that name in his life, but then again, all the years before he turned eighteen had been a blur. Maybe he was a jilted ex-lover from high school? A disgruntled coworker from Jongdae's job at the local supermarket when he was fifteen? He hadn't had many friends so Sehun couldn't have been that close with him either. He tries to reel off the list of people he would have personally known, but the name still doesn’t ring any bells. "How did he even know I was here?"

"He saw you and Chanyeol waiting when we brought him in. Are you sure you don't know him?" Kyungsoo's expression is tense and stares Jongdae down through his dark eyes. "Jongdae, you're my friend, but if we found out that you've been lying, there's nothing I'll be able to do for you."

"Hey, hey," Jongdae backs away, raising his hands up. "I promise I've never seen him before. And if I did, I would be the first one to let you know. Maybe he saw me on one of my cases? Or maybe he used to work with MAMA? Not all of us are powers work as superheroes, you know?"

Kyungsoo's shoulders relax slightly and he nods, lips pressed tightly. "Anyways, we haven't been able to get much out of him after he asked for you so we're going to put you in there. We've injected with him a drug that blocks his access to his powers, but if you feel uncomfortable at any time, signal for us and we'll get you out of there. Try to get him to talk. The more we know about him, the better. You'll be monitored at all times of course, by me, Chanyeol, and Junmyeon."

Jongdae nods as they turn the corner, into the dimly lit room at the end of the corridor. There's a large glass screen dividing the room and on the other side of the glass, he can see Oh Sehun sitting at the table. Chanyeol and Junmyeon are already there, perched by the glass, staring intently at the lone figure on the other side.

"Hey," Jongdae says awkwardly, flashing a peace sign, feeling oddly out of place in this intersection of elements. It's strange to see Junmyeon and Chanyeol sitting together, a juxtaposition of past and present, powered and unpowered, and he shifts awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Chanyeol offers him a tentative smile and Junmyeon just sighs, motioning him to the door on the left. "Alright, I'll just…" he trails off and makes his way to the door hesitantly. As the door closes behind him, he swears he can hear Kyungsoo snort on the other side.

Oh Sehun might be air powered, but he looks like ice, gleaming under the cool fluorescent lighting of the room. There are dark rings under his eyes, and under his baggy clothing, he looks devastatingly young. Faintly, Jongdae wonders how a kid like him got entangled with all this mess. When Jongdae was Sehun's age, he hadn't even thought about putting his power to use. It was only after Baekhyun left that Jongdae considered becoming something more than just a statistic. Five percent of the population was powered and he wanted to do something more, make something more out of the world he was forced into, with the power he was given. But he remembers the years leading up to that, of discovering his power of electricity, of hiding it from his family in a time where powers weren't as accepted. He wonders if Sehun went through the same.

For a moment, Jongdae stares at Sehun, trying to find the connection between them and Sehun stares back, eyes cold and blank. There's handcuffs on his wrists and something in Jongdae's heart twists at the sight of bruising skin under the cold metal. Jongdae had spent so long fighting masked villains that it was easy to forget the human under the façade.

"Are you comfortable?" He asks tentatively, suddenly very aware of the cold steel table underneath his hands. Sehun doesn't reply. Instead, his eyes bore holes in Jongdae's head, as if he's trying to shift through the strands of Jongdae, peeling back each layer until Jongdae is laid bare for him to scrutinize. Shifting uneasily under his gaze, Jongdae is almost tempted to ask Sehun what he finds, but decides that he probably doesn't want to hear the answer anyways.

"I heard you wanted to talk," Jongdae tries again and this time, it elicits a response. A smile spreads across Sehun's face, thin and razor sharp, cold like the hue of his icy blonde hair.

"You think you're like me, don't you?" God even his voice sounds young, like he's still settling into his changed adult body. Puberty had been a bitch and Jongdae still shudders at the memory of it. "You have powers too." It's not a question and Jongdae automatically nods.

"Can you tell me what happened today? We know you were working with the people who set the apartment on fire." Jongdae's never been responsible for interrogating unstable eighteen year olds, but he feels as if the gentle route would probably be best in getting information. After all, Jongdae knows what it's like to flounder in the world, looking for a tether. "We can help you, you know?"

Instead, Sehun, the snarky shit leans back, crossing his arms with a barely concealed smirk. "I know my rights. You won't be getting anything from me. You're all dumb anyways. Do you even know what you're actually doing, who you're following? You might have powers, but you're no different from the rest of them. I bet you only became a superhero for the cape and glory. Where is the sense of good and truth in the world these days."

A spike of anger flares in Jongdae and he leans forward challengingly. "Then tell me," he says, trying to keep his tone crisp and clear. Sehun actually laughs, shaking his head like he's disappointed in Jongdae. Whatever maternal instincts Sehun might have aroused before are completely gone and Jongdae wants to demand who the brat is, to come into the room with his misguided sense of right and wrong, and mouth off to a room full of officers.

"Nope, not going to fool me. Try harder next time."

"Sehun, I -"

"Not listening," Sehun replies before Jongdae can even finish his sentence. And before Jongdae can react, he plugs his fingers into his ears while staring obdurately at Jongdae

Jongdae attempts a quick glance at the window where Junmyeon, Chanyeol and Kyungsoo are watching before he realizes that he can't see them through the one-way glass. "Then why did you ask for me?" he asks exasperated, halfway ready to get up and leave. Only his sense of pride roots him to his seat, too stubborn to give up due to a belligerent teenager.

"I'm right though, aren't I?" Sehun scoffs, fingers still plugged in his ears. "You're so gross, donning the cape when you're probably so corrupted on the inside. But I bet it's nice having all those headlines to yourself. You get the fame, the money - that's why you do it, don't you? God, I bet all those fangirls line up around the block too, spreading their legs for y-"

Jongdae slams his hand down on the table, too disgusted to hear anymore. "Is this why you wanted to talk to me? To taunt me? Judge me? Five people died today and more will die next week until we can catch the people responsible. For all your talk about right and wrong, you seem perfectly fine with letting innocent people die because of you."

Sehun pales to a ghastly white and his eyes turn positively murderous. "I don't think you have any right to preach considering what you have done," he hisses. "Don't think I don't know you, Kim Jongdae. Or Chen, right? I've followed you for years. You and your partner Xiumin. Although it's a pity I can't meet him, since he's out in the hospital. I know you, Jongdae. You weren't even supposed to make it out of training. You were too brash, too arrogant, and you only made the cut because the person ranked above you died in a training accident two months before graduation. That's why they stuck you with Xiumin, at least until you offed him too with that concussion. You're emotional, you're needy, you can't even take care of yourself properly. You might have more solve rates than any other team in the department, but how many of those can truly be attributed to you and not your partner?"

Reeling back, as if struck, Jongdae stares at Sehun shell-shocked. For someone whose existence Jongdae hadn't even know of until today, Sehun seemed to know everything about Jongdae. And with the Sehun's tirade of abuse came an unearthing of Jongdae's insecurities and fears, things that Jongdae hadn't told anyone - even Minseok. An icy feeling creeps up his stomach when he realizes that everyone in the other room heard as well. Across from him, Sehun sits, infuriatingly victorious, and Jongdae feels drained. Defeat isn't something rare to him, but it's been a while since he felt so humiliated, exposed for all to see.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says, weary, trying to push down the part of him that screams for him to run. "I became a superhero because I wanted to do what was right. Lecture me about it when you do something right for once in your life. I've risked my life over the last couple years for the people of Seoul and what have you done? Sat at home, letting your power go to waste, obsessing over two people who've done more in a day than what you've done in a lifetime. It's pathetic how misguided you are."

"Don't," Sehun whispers, voice like shattering steel, "tell me who I am." His knuckles turn white, hands twisting and turning in the handcuffs.

Jongdae tenses up too, but he doesn't move, very aware that he has touched a live nerve in Sehun. "Then don't tell me who I am," he counters, rage barely restrained. "I want to do what's right.”

"Is that what you tell yourself?" Sehun sneers. "Is that what you tell all the people you kill?"

"I don't kill anyone. I'm not like you."

At this, Sehun breathes in deeply, as if trying to choke back a tremor that runs through his body. "Do you remember the first case that shot you and Minseok to prominence? The wood power, the chase down the Han river, and finally the confrontation at Namsan tower?"

And Jongdae does. It had been one of their trickiest cases, tracking down and finally capturing the sociopathic wood power hell haunting Seoul's underworld. Lee Soon-kyu had been ruthless, all charm and cuteness masking the rotting interior underneath, who killed as she wished. Jongdae and Minseok were called in after one too many prostitutes went missing, although Jongdae had shuddered to think how many had died before the case was brought to their attention. The resulting media attention and public fight had catapulted the superheroes Chen and Xiumin to fame afterwards, beginning their long reign in the public's eye.

"I do," Jongdae says, unclear of where Sehun is going with this.

"Do you remember the way you finally took out the killer, balanced at the edge of the tower's roof?"

"I do."

"And the way the resulting shockwave had decimated a block of buildings around it?"

A sinking feeling manifests in Jongdae's chest and he has to force the next couple of words past his lips. "I do."

"My sister died that day. Joo-Hyun hadn't even been caught directly in the fight. We all thought we had avoided that sociopath until the buildings started coming down. My brother and I got out, but my mother and my sister didn't. We found her afterwards, head bashed in by the piano she loved, and my mother next to her, curled over as if she could protect Joo-Hyun from the destruction." Sehun chokes, burying his hand within his hands. He's not a criminal anymore, but a boy playing with guns too big for him, trying to keep up with a world that keeps spinning even when he falls. "My mother didn't deserve that. Joo-Hyun didn't deserve that either. Was it right for either of them to die?"

"I didn't know. I'm sorry." The words are hushed and Jongdae feels so detached that it feels like someone else is saying them. And he feels like he doesn't have the right to say anything else. Jongdae had known that there were often casualties to the cases he worked, but it's different to hear about them individually; once separated and defined, they became victims, not collateral damage. He'd long justified it by arguing that they had saved so many more potential lives than were lost, but now, looking at the shell of an eighteen year old, broken down on the table in front of him, he's caught in a torrent of emotions, regret, sorrow, anger.

Sehun looks up, eyes red. "I don't want your apology. I want something to change. Joo-Hyun didn't deserve to die, but neither of the others did either. I didn't want more people to die, but you guys need to be stopped. You've been operating without control for too long."

Swept up in the rush of remorse, Jongdae feels his eyes stinging too. It feels like the walls are rapidly closing in him, like he's asphyxiating in a pool of consequences, both future and past, and he can't do anything but fruitlessly claw his way towards tomorrow. "I'm sorry," he says again and turns to flee.

"Jongdae," Sehun calls and when Jongdae looks back, he sees acceptance, grief and anger in his eyes, but not fear. "It's 243 Sajikro Street tomorrow."

Jongdae runs.

---

Once upon a time, drinking had been a pastime for Jongdae, not a vice. Jongdae remembers staying up to the wee hours of the morning, drunk on alcohol and the feeling of completeness, with Baekhyun and Chanyeol, playing the various drinking games Baekhyun had a knack for coming up with. Now, he's sitting at a bar, knocking down his bright red Cosmopolitan for the second time this week, hoping to get plastered enough to forget who he is and what he does, if only just for a couple hours.

Jongdae had forgotten to call Baekhyun about his apartment, but Baekhyun ended up calling a couple hours after Jongdae had left the interrogation room anyways. And somehow, with some wheedling, Baekhyun had somehow convinced Jongdae to let him move in with him, at least until his manager had set up a new living space, according to him. Baekhyun had promptly walked in with a dozen suitcases behind him, though, took a look at Jongdae's apartment and promptly walked out, mildly depressed. Which is why Jongdae is now at the club, nursing his drink in the corner, watching Baekhyun grind his way across the dance floor. His apartment hadn't even been at its messiest, but apparently it was sad enough to make Baekhyun leave for the nightclub shortly after arriving, dragging Jongdae along with him.

Even under the flashing strobe lights though, Jongdae can't forget Sehun and his eyes, hostile and melancholy. Baekhyun and Chanyeol were the closest thing to family Jongdae had ever had and so Jongdae can't even imagine what Sehun had felt, but the thought of him makes Jongdae's stomach churn. And most of all, he still can't shake Sehun's last words out of his mind. You've been operating without control for too long. A small part of him wants to decry the judgement Sehun had laid down on superheroes, but a larger part can't help but worry that Sehun is right. As far as Jongdae knows, MAMA has free reign over the power affairs of the city, but answers to no one. Was it worth it? The thousands of innocents that died in sacrifice to bring down the larger villain?

"Are you thinking again?"

Jongdae's head snaps up to look at Baekhyun standing in front of him. Several people had already come up to him and asked for his autograph, and right now, he looks like he’s absolutely glowing. The dimly lit atmosphere of the club looks better on him than any other photoshoot lighting. He's tipsy too, a little too handsy when he wraps an arm around Jongdae's shoulder and pulls him close.

"Maybe," Jongdae admits, knocking down the rest of his glass in one gulp.

"I didn't bring you out here to skulk around and mope," Baekhyun says, breath warm against his ear. "Thinking's overrated anyways. You should come dance with me instead. There's a pair of girls who would be very interested in a ménage a trois." His voice stumbles clumsily over the French phrase and then he frowns. "Although I guess if you join, it wouldn't be a ménage a trois anymore, but I'm a pretty nice guy so I'll share. What's the word for four in French?"

He tries to pull Jongdae towards the dance floor, almost stumbling as he does so, but Jongdae notes the steady pressure from Baekhyun's arm looped around his neck, directing Jongdae towards the center of the crowd with a lucid clarity. "Tell me," Jongdae whispers into Baekhyun's ear. "Are you actually this drunk or are you just pretending to be?"

Baekhyun smiles, dipping down so that his mouth hovers right by the junction of Jongdae's neck and shoulder, and exhales, nosing at Jongdae's neck. "Pretending. Although it's easier to be actually drunk, to be honest. But I'm game for whatever you want me to be."

The close proximity of Baekhyun, his suggestive wording and the consumption of maybe a little too much alcohol sends Jongdae's head into a dizzy and Baekhyun takes advantage of that to pull him onto the dance floor. Warm bodies all around writhe to the heavy bass pounding the background and caught between the push and pull of the mass, Jongdae gives up and begins to dance as well. He'd never been a good dancer but he's here to get wasted and have a good time so who cares. Besides him, a gaudily dressed woman flashes her breasts at the crowd, inciting a ring of hoots to echo in the crowd, and Baekhyun laughs, pressing up against Jongdae, in his element.

"You've gotten better at dancing," he calls, almost inaudible over the heavy music and crowd noise. "You couldn't even bust a move to save your life back in that old apartment of ours. Remember when I tried to teach you how to use that nice ass of yours?"

Jongdae laughs, interlacing his hands in Baekhyun's hair to draw him closer. "I guess that training had other perks besides getting me in shape for superhero duty. Although I'm always up for some additional lessons if need be." He's totally flirting with Baekhyun and it's kind of weird, but it's also kind of nice. Especially the way Baekhyun's peers at him under his dark lashes. The room feels really hot right now and Jongdae tugs at his collar irritatedly, but he continues to move to the beat of the music, until the gyrating crowd pulls them apart. Two songs later and he's grinding up against a cute blonde, savoring the way her hips feel under his hands, before he realizes Baekhyun is staring at him across the room. He looks up, eyes meeting Baekhyun's, and he realizes that Baekhyun is sulking.

"You want to go out for a breath of air?" He offers after pushing his way back to Baekhyun's side. Baekhyun tilts his head, as if considering the offer, even though Jongdae's sure that Baekhyun has already made up his mind.

"Why not?" Baekhyun tosses back with a grin. "Some people were getting a little too grabby out there anyways. I feel like I'm about to suffocate." They make their way out into the night, under the yellow streetlight. There's a group of teenagers that disperse quickly when Jongdae and Baekhyun head their way. Without pause, Baekhyun pulls out a cigarette and lights it, offering one to Jongdae in the process. But Jongdae just shakes his head and stretches his arms out, looking into the clouds. There's too much light pollution to see the stars, but if he imagines, he can see them shining behind the clouds above.

"This is nice," Baekhyun observes, letting the curlicue of smoke disperse into the night air above. "I haven't felt this relaxed, since like, forever." He turns to Jongdae, eyes soft. "I don't know about you, but I kind of miss those days, our apartment sharing ones. It's funny because I spent my childhood determined to make it as a singer, yet now that I'm here, I keep wishing to go back. Sure we survived on ramen and crackers, but the freedom feels invaluable now. We were just out of high school, wandering without a responsibility in sight."

"There weren't any expectations," Jongdae shrugs. "No bar to meet, no pressure to do the right and the good." And Baekhyun nods, staring into the light above them.

"You seemed pretty upset today," Baekhyun says suddenly. "What happened?"
"Shit went down at the police station today. I met the brother of a girl I killed years ago and now I don't know what to do with myself."

Baekhyun frowns, "What do you mean? You save people, not kill them.”

"That's what I thought until today," Jongdae replies glumly, he shoves his hands in his pockets and stares down at the cracked pavement underneath his feet. "You ever had your world view shifted so much that you don't even know which way is up and which is down?"

"Nope," Baekhyun says, letting the word pop in his mouth. "Sounds terrible though. Care to talk about it?"

"I always thought I've been doing what's right, saving people, helping the city - all that good stuff you know. And I knew that there was going to be collateral damage. But after meeting that guy, it just felt so much realer, you know? Is that truly what's good? Causing the death of innocents for a greater cause," Jongdae confesses and it feels good voicing it out loud, getting it off his chest. "I don't know what to do now. What if I go on another case after this? It's going to be constantly on my mind."

"Oh Jongdae," Baekhyun murmurs, flicking some ash off the tip of his cigarette with a short jerk, "What's right isn't always what's good. I partially fucked my way to the top, you know? Sure that was good for me, but was it right?" He shrugs. "Who cares."

Jongdae laughs until it breaks at the end. "That has to be some of the worst advice I've ever heard. And I've gotten dating advice from Chanyeol."

"No, but seriously," Baekhyun presses on, "you just have to decide if the ends justify the means. And that's something only you can figure out for yourself. I decided it was worth it. It felt dirty and dehumanizing, but at some point, something's got to give and I felt that I had made it too far to give up then. You're in the same position. Are the people that died worth the people you potentially saved?"

"That's what I can't figure out. How did you do it?"

Baekhyun shrugs. "You can talk to as many people as you want, read as many articles as you want, but in the end, you just have to go with your gut feeling. And that's something you'll just have to figure out over time, but until then you can just keep trying to test the waters. Go out again, see if it's worth it. And then decide."

"How can you deal with it then? The consequences?" Jongdae wants to know.

Baekhyun turns slightly, profile of his face cut against the light of the streetlamp and for a moment, Jongdae thinks he makes a lonely, lovely portrait of a boy under the moon. Unbidden, but not unwanted, Baekhyun wavers and slips his hand into Jongdae's for a quick second and squeezes. Then he smiles, both beautiful and deadly.

"I can't."

---

Minseok calls in the morning, having somehow convinced the hospital to let him out earlier and Jongdae persuades Minseok to come over to his apartment for a party. He spends the rest of the morning trying to clean up his apartment to a semi-presentable state while Baekhyun perches on the countertop on his phone, laughing at his efforts. In the afternoon, he spends his time in the musty kitchen, trying to cook enough food for those he’d invited. Baekhyun is still as bad as cooking as before he left so Jongdae demotes him to cleaning duty, which he does so with a sulking pout until Jongdae coaxes a smile out of him again with a promise to bring out the booze. The previous day lies unspoken behind them.

“How do you even get a party without drinks?” Baekhyun whines, splashing some of the dishwater at Jongdae with a satisfied vengeance. He’s been on the same dish for the past ten minutes and Jongdae’s not sure if he’s trying to spite him or if he’s just really bad at washing dishes. Living as a celebrity, Jongdae guesses that usually someone’s always after him, picking it up.

“How do you survive with all that alcohol in your system,” Jongdae grits out, wrestling with a particularly difficult soufflé he’d been trying to make. It’s his third try and he still hasn’t been able to get it to stay standing. Looking over flippantly, Baekhyun floats his way over, resting his chin on Jongdae’s shoulder, and watches in amusement.

“I don’t know about you, but I don’t think a soufflé is supposed to look like that,” he says with a snicker.

Jongdae fights the urge to whack Baekhyun with the spatula and say my soufflés do look like this so please jump off a cliff thank you very much, but Jongdae is a mature superhero with responsibilities so instead he rolls his eyes and then dumps a cup of water over Baekhyun’s head. He listens to Baekhyun’s horrified shriek with a massive shit eating grin and then turns back to his ugly soufflé, assuming Baekhyun would get the idea and go back to washing the dishes.

Instead, he only has time to register that Baekhyun has grabbed his collar before something cold is dumped down his back. The ice cubes make their way down his shirt with a torturous slowness and Jongdae falls to the ground trying frantically to pull them out. Baekhyun’s laughter rings out, cutting through sound of the spaghetti boiling with an airy bubbliness. Thinking only of retribution, Jongdae pulls Baekhyun down with him and to his delight, Baekhyun is as ticklish as ever and screams loud enough to scare the neighbors.

“Truce?” Baekhyun gasps out, squirming against Jongdae’s fingers digging into his side, and Jongdae pauses, considering the idea.

“Will you stop bothering me about my soufflé?” he asks and Baekhyun nods hastily. “Call it pretty.”

“What?”

“Call me soufflé the prettiest soufflé ever to be made,” he demands. And Baekhyun scrunches his eyes together like it physically hurts him to even consider the idea.

“Baekhyun,” Jongdae whines, still wounded over Baekhyun’s blasphemous assault on his soufflé. He jabs his fingers into Baekhyun’s side again and Baekhyun doubles over, trying to wriggle his way out of Jongdae’s hold.

“It’s the fucking prettiest soufflé ever known to mankind,” Baekhyun finally gives in. “I’d fuck that soufflé in fact. It deserves a place in every man’s heart.”

Satisfied, Jongdae lets go and Baekhyun flops to the ground next to Jongdae, on the cold kitchen tiles, breathing hard. Jongdae has to go tend to the pasta soon, but he’s content to rest on the ground for now and catch his breath. “I can’t believe you said you would fuck my soufflé.”

Baekhyun turns to look at him, hair falling astray in his face, and sends him a dirty look. “I was desperate.”

“Clearly,” Jongdae snorts. When Baekhyun doesn’t answer, he looks over. Baekhyun’s now lying spread out on the floor with his eyes closed, crooning some catchy pop song under his breath. “What are you thinking about?”

“How nice this is,” Baekhyun hums. He flips himself so that he rests his weight on his elbows. “If you’re not careful, I’m going to take over your apartment and keep it for myself.”

Jongdae thinks he would like that. Coming back after a long day at work to see Baekhyun still trying to figure out how to do the dishes. “You should stay,” he says, half-joking half-serious, feeling suddenly very brave. “Don’t go back to China. Stay here with me instead.”

Baekhyun laughs. “And what would you have to offer me that China doesn’t?”
Jongdae pauses for a moment thinking. Then he prods a finger into Baekhyun’s cheek. It gives way under his finger as Baekhyun smiles endearingly. “A thousand soufflés. One for everyday you’re here.”

“I have commitment issues. I’ll never stay for long,” Baekhyun warns. He smiles, but his eyes flicker.”

“I’ll switch up the flavors. One for every day you return,” Jongdae counters, “You’ll have to come back for more.”

“Mm, I think I’d like that.” Baekhyun’s eyes flutter shut again and he lets himself fall onto Jongdae’s arm like he’s caught in a watercolor dream. “Make me macarons too. I like those.” Tentatively, Jongdae wraps his arm around Baekhyun’s shoulder and stares up the ceiling, counting the little specks and pretends that they’re little stars. He looks at Baekhyun, then the ceiling again and makes a wish of faith and surrender and love.

Then the oven timer rings and Jongdae has to spring up to take out the cake before it’s burnt to a crisp.

At around six, the people begin filing in and Jongdae feels a surge of pride as he counts the heads. Kyungsoo and his boyfriend, Jongin, arrive at six on the dot, carrying a cake Kyungsoo had whipped up. Junmyeon files in, still in his work suit and looking primly out of place. Chanyeol dashes in last minute. Yixing, Jungkook, Yoongi, they all arrive, crowding into Jongdae’s apartment until there’s hardly room to breathe. Minseok arrives last, looking a little teary when he surveys those who he came to greet him and Jongdae can’t pass the opportunity to tease him – just a little.

“Kim Minseok, finally brought to tears by a dinner party,” Jongdae announces, ducking a swipe from Minseok and the room dissolves into laughter. It’s easy like this, Jongdae thinks, watching as Baekhyun and Yixing strike up an easy camaraderie, meandering towards the couch to eat their meals while engrossed in an intense conversation on some Chinese movie. Jungkook, shy at first, soon settles in comfortably with Yoongi and Chanyeol, who as a group attempt to raid Jongdae’s underwear drawer after a couple of drinks. Jongdae finds them just in time and manages to fend them off with promises to run to the store and get ice cream for them all.

However, he quickly forgets the deal when he sees Kyungsoo trying to ward off Jongin’s tipsy advances with a fond, but exasperated smile. It’s so domestically out of character for normally reserved Kyungsoo that Jongdae scrambles to find a camera to record the scene before Kyungsoo manages to escape Jongin’s hands. Wandering between the groups by himself, he rewards himself with a beer that he clutches to himself wherever he goes.

Halfway past nine, Kyungsoo and Chanyeol leave, claiming their need to go to the station for a call. Jongdae thinks it must be pretty serious for them to leave so soon and Chanyeol’s face is grave when he walks out the door. He wants to go after them, ask them what’s wrong, but then Baekhyun wanders over, hooking a hand around Jongdae’s arm and drags him into his conversation with Yixing. Immersed in debating the ethics of cultural appropriation in the movie industry, the incident removes itself from Jongdae’s mind. He’s about to declare his undying passion for Kungfu Panda from his very comfortable position curled up at Baekhyun’s side when Jongin approaches him, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“Do you have a moment?” he asks, shifting awkwardly.

Jongdae excuses himself from Yixing and Baekhyun to go to the kitchen where it’s quieter. “What’s up?”

“Kyungsoo was my ride here, but he had to go so do you think you could drop me off a my apartment? I forgot to feed my dogs,” Jongin explains slightly embarrassed. “I was going to ask someone else, but it looks like you had the least to drink.” Jongdae looks down into his barely touched bottle of beer and laughs.

“Yeah, hang on let me get my keys.”

It turns out Jongin lives ten minutes away from Jongdae and they both share a passion for dogs – especially the fluffy ones. “It’s funny,” Jongdae says as they make their way down the streets, discussion devolving into one centered solely around dogs, “I always thought you hated me ever since Kyungsoo brought me to meet you.”

Jongdae sees Jongin shrug from the corner of his eye. “I don’t. Not really. I’m just not good at warming up with new people.”

“Nah I get it,” Jongdae says. “That was me too. At least until I met Baekhyun.”

“Are you and Baekhyun good friends?” Jongin asks, something off in his tone. “You guys seemed pretty close back there at the party.”

“We used to room together after high school with Chanyeol. We were all dirt poor, but it was fun.” Jongdae thinks of all the days they subsisted on a diet of ramen, when they had to walk instead of taking the subway since they couldn’t afford the fare. “Then he moved out to go into singing and I went to become a superhero.”

“And now he’s back?”

“Yea,” Jongdae says. “Why?”

“Jongdae,” Jongin hesitates. For a minute, Jongdae thinks he’s not going to continue, but something seems to change in his mind and Jongin’s expression flickers. “You seem like a good guy, so I’m not telling this to you to hurt you, but maybe keep your distance around Baekhyun from now on. You don’t know what he’s been involved in.”

Something protective flares in the back of Jongdae’s mind and he takes his eyes off the road for a second to look Jongin in the eye. “I get you’re trying to be nice,” he says stiffly, “and I appreciate the warning, but you don’t know Baekhyun like I do.”

“And you don’t know Baekhyun like I do,” Jongin counters, leaning back. “I work as a backup dancer in the entertainment industry. Stuff gets out.”

“What then?” Jongdae demands defensively.

“I see the way you look at him. You want to throw yourself at his feet, don’t you? Protect him and save him. Martyr yourself for him so he won’t get hurt again.”

“So what if I do?”

Jongin laughs, but it’s brittle and cracking. “You’re a romantic. Kyungsoo tells me that. I can see it too in the way you flit around him like you want to settle down, white house fence, two and a half children and all. But Baekhyun eats guys like you for breakfast. He lives off of it. Let’s them get in close and then when it’s close enough, when he’s got everything he needs, he turns tail and runs. You won’t even realize it until you wake up with the bed empty.”

With a sinking feeling Jongdae remembers what Baekhyun told him earlier. I’m not good at commitment. “Do you have proof?” He tries.

Jongin shakes his head. “Try asking him why he left to come back to Korea. It’s not just some vacation.” They pull up to his house and Jongin opens the door to leave. “Just,” he hesitates, genuine worry in his eyes, “Kyungsoo likes you and you seem like a good guy. So be careful, alright?”

---

When Jongdae wakes up the next morning, Baekhyun is still fast asleep, sprawled on the couch with a slight snore fluttering its way out of his open mouth. The remains of last night’s party are still scattered around them. Jongdae vaguely remembers getting back late at night, partying until he couldn’t see straight and then stumbling onto the couch with Baekhyun, too tired to make it back to his own bed, and falling asleep right there and then. There's so much he wants to do, like ask Baekhyun about why he had returned, but when he checks his phone, the text message open on the screen from Chanyeol makes his stomach drop. Tell Baekhyun to call me. It's urgent.

He almost loathes to wake Baekhyun from his sleep, preferring to admire the way Baekhyun innocently curls up in the sheets, a complete contrast from the night before. Instead, Jongdae calls Chanyeol from his phone, opting to give Baekhyun a few more minutes of sleep, away from the chaos of the world for a just a little longer.

"Baekhyun?" Chanyeol picks up almost immediately and his voice is frenzied as he speaks.

"He's still asleep, what happened?"

"Sehun was right. They went for 243 Sajikro Street today. We set two officers to watch the house overnight, but when they didn't respond this morning, we dispatched another officer to check on them. They're dead, Jongdae."

A dawning sense of horror slowly shocks every nerve of his awake and Jongdae pauses to mentally prepare for what he guesses is going to come next. "And the residents of the house? What happened to them?"

"There was only one, but she's dead." Jongdae closes his eyes, sagging down on the couch besides Baekhyun. "I'm sorry. We were too late. It's definitely the same perpetrator." He feels hollow, imagining the fiery death the woman must have faced. Judging from the time of Chanyeol's call, the attack must have occurred before dawn, and he wonders what it's like to wake up in the midst of a fiery hell and be consumed by the heat before the sun even came out. There's something wrong with the story though, something Chanyeol's not telling him.

"But why did you need to talk to Baekhyun?" He asks, gripping the phone a little tighter. On the other end, Chanyeol's breath catches and for a moment, Jongdae can only hear the quiet noise of the receiver. "Chanyeol," he repeats. And Chanyeol sighs, heavy and sympathetic.

"Forensics ID'd her body just now. It was Baekhyun's biological mother."

An icy cold jolt shoots through Jongdae's veins. "Are you sure?" He asks, desperately hoping that Chanyeol would laugh and deny it, playing it off as a joke. But that doesn't happen.

"I'm sorry," Chanyeol says quietly instead.

"Me too," Jongdae laughs bitterly. "I'll wake him up so he can talk to you."

Quietly he shakes Baekhyun awake and watches with his heart clenched as Baekhyun brings up a loosely curled fist to rub at his eyes. "Is it time to wake up already?" He yawns, stretching like a cat, and Jongdae doesn't know what to do but to hand soundlessly hand Baekhyun the phone and make a break for the kitchen. He doesn't want to be there when the fallout happens.

He's in the middle of making breakfast when he hears a crash from the other room. Chanyeol must have told him then. Jongdae pads into room cautiously, unable to look away from Baekhyun's back where he's kneeling by the couch. The phone was thrown with such force into the table that one of the wooden legs is chipped and the phone is lying in pieces on the ground. But surprisingly, there are no other signs of damage. Jongdae wasn't sure what to expect, but whether or not Baekhyun loved his mother or not, she still was a part of his birthright to claim and Jongdae's dealt with worse damage with less heartbreaking news.

"I'm sorry about your phone," Baekhyun says, not looking up. His voice is hoarse, still tinged by the vestiges of sleep. Jongdae is almost afraid to see his face should he turn around. "I'll buy you a new one."

"It's fine," Jongdae says, sitting down on the couch besides Baekhyun. The couch dips underneath their combined weight and Baekhyun shifts, inching farther away from Jongdae. "Are you alright?"

There's a drawn out inhale and Baekhyun turns ever so slightly so that Jongdae can see the soft curvature of his cheek. "You know then?" He asks tonelessly. And Jongdae swallows hard and nods. Voicing his knowledge out loud when he realizes that Baekhyun can't see him. Baekhyun doesn't say anything else, but Jongdae is ready to wait for him. The morning light is filtering into the apartment, casting a warm glow over the room, and he sits there, teetering at the edge of uncertainty until he wants to scream at the suspense, but he won't because this is what Baekhyun needs right now.

"I thought I would feel something when she died," Baekhyun admits. He turns around to face Jongdae. He's not crying like Jongdae thought he'd be, but there's something infinitely fragile about the way he carries himself now. Like he's afraid of reaching out to the world around him after being hurt by it so many times. "I reminded myself of all the times she locked me in the closet to get high on drugs with her new beau every week," he closes his eyes and chuckles darkly. "She was a horrible mother, but she was still my mother and I feel like I should still mourn her. She wasn't that bad before, you know? She would take me to the park, buy me ice cream, do what normal people do until she got into drugs, which she would sell her body for. Then it got so bad that my school noticed and child services took me away when I was nine."

"She sought me out afterwards," Baekhyun says, face twisting, no longer the invincible, the perfect. "After I made it big in China, wanted to reconnect. And you know what I did? I laughed in her face. Told her I wasn't going to help her when she needed me, because she never did the same for me when I was younger. She probably just wanted to tap me for money, but after she left, I wished I had taken her back."

"She was a two-sided bitch and I still wanted her to be alive. Then do you know what Chanyeol told me on the phone? Why she was targeted by the arsonists? It was because she was a fucking prostitute. My mother was a whore and she died for it. Apparently she was classy one too, only sold herself to those who could pay the most. Superheroes, government officials, you name it. They killed her for access to those names." Baekhyun shakes his head. "Fuck her. And now they're going to use that information to go for superheroes now that they have their real names."


"Two casualties in one day," Kyungsoo confirms somberly that night, half-cloaked in the darkness on Jongdae's doorstep. "They're picking up the pace. I don't know how much more we can keep from the press. Suho is thinking about releasing a public statement tomorrow morning. Appease the public, right? Tell them everything is going to be alright."

"Is it going to be?" Jongdae asks, taking in the weary slump of Kyungsoo shoulders, the way his hand permanently lingers by his phone as if expecting another call. He looks tired. Chanyeol had been too, lethargy sliding off of his voice when they spoke earlier, rendering it more muted than usual.

Kyungsoo smiles, but it's dead. "No, but they don't have to know that. We're running in circles and we're running out of time before the next place will take place. People are starting to talk, our phones are ringing off the hook every couple minutes, inquiring about the supposed bombings that are taking place."

"It's only going to get worse unless something changes." Then, realizing that Kyungsoo has been standing at his doorstep for a couple of minutes now, Jongdae jerks his head towards the interior of his department. "Wanna come in for a couple of minutes? I'll make some coffee. You look like you're about to fall over any minute."

Kyungsoo looks like he's tempted to say yes, but instead he shakes his head, checking his phone with a quick glance. "Actually, I'm supposed to bring you to the station. We tried calling your phone before, but you weren't answering and Chanyeol was getting worried."

"Baekhyun might have accidentally broke my phone." Jongdae frowns. "But what's wrong? Am I in trouble?"

"Chanyeol wants you to talk to Sehun again. He thinks you might be able to get something more out of him this time since you were the only one he opened up to last time. And we don't currently have any other leads, so you're the only thing we have right now."

"He didn't want to talk to me before. What makes you think he'll talk to me this time?"

"We think we have the leverage to make him talk this time. The second casualty today? That was his brother," Kyungsoo says, face darkening, and the light above Jongdae's doorstep flickers.

Swallowing hard, Jongdae nods. "I'll be there in a sec. I just have to let Baekhyun know I'm leaving."

The set of Kyungsoo's mouth stiffens and he peers around Jongdae to look into his apartment. "I heard about what happened. I'm sorry."

"Yea. He's not dealing with it too well, either," Jongdae confesses. Baekhyun hadn't moved from the couch, staring into the TV, although whether or not he was watching the montage of shows was unclear to Jongdae. It was painful to watch, but every attempt Jongdae had made at trying to coax Baekhyun off the couch was met with a cold stare and eventually Jongdae gave up, draping a blanket over Baekhyun's shoulders and setting out a glass of milk by his side. He's caught between wanting to give Baekhyun the space he needs and the reassurance of just someone being there to catch him when he falls.

"Emotional breakdown?"

"The opposite, actually." Kyungsoo frowns, but he doesn't ask and Jongdae doesn't clarify. "Wait one minute." Dashing inside to grab a pair of shoes, Jongdae stops to poke head in the living room where Baekhyun is curled motionlessly on the couch in the dark, watching the host interview a bubbly girl. The girl looks familiar, Jongdae might have seen her in a TV show before. Or maybe a movie. She's laughing, answering the host with an air of effortless smiles and with a start, Jongdae realizes Baekhyun is mouthing along with her. Oh the fans? I love them so much. They're what keep me going every day. The only reason I am where I am is because of them. She faces the camera and flashes a heart through the screen with her fingers; on the couch, Baekhyun's fingers curl too whether by will or conscious design. I love you guys! Mwah!

"Baekhyun," Jongdae calls softly and Baekhyun's eyes snap up, meeting Jongdae's. "Chanyeol needs me at the station, if you need anything just call him. You have his number, right?"

"Yeah, okay." His voice is rusty from disuse, but Jongdae sighs in relief. It's the most he's gotten out of Baekhyun the whole day. He continues to watch as Baekhyun turns back to the TV, slender fingers tapping out the rhythm of the jingle that plays at the end of the interview. When he's sure that Baekhyun isn't going to do anything else, he turns to leave.

"Alright, let's go," he tells Kyungsoo at the entrance.


The road to the station is relatively clear, but Kyungsoo still turns on the sirens, illuminating the passing city was streaks of red and blue. When Jongdae raises his eyebrows, Kyungsoo merely looks at him unimpressed, before flooring the gas pedal. The noise of nightlife continues to go on around them, two girls getting drunk outside a nightclub down one alleyway, a rowdy group of teenagers flocking from store to store, bags in hand, down the other alleyway. It's almost astonishing how little they know about another attack that could be right around the corner, claiming the lives of who knows how many people this time. Caught in their bubble of self-absorbance, it's like they exist outside the stream of time, ticking away with every second they waste. Jongdae remembers what it was like to live like that, living in conjunction with the neon lights, the jazzy dance clubs, ripping into the city the same way the city rips into them.

Within ten minutes, Jongdae is in the station, in the same interrogation room, though this time, Chanyeol stops him before he enters the room. Sehun is on the other side of the glass again, fiddling with his handcuffs and picking at the cuff of his sleeve disinterestedly. He still doesn't know about his brother and Jongdae feels horrible knowing that in a couple minutes, he will inflict the blow that everyone hopes will bring Sehun down to his knees for once and for all. It's brutal, but also terribly effectible.

"Kibum was his name," Chanyeol says urgently, pressing a file into Jongdae's hands. "He died in a similar fire two hours ago. The only thing we could use to ID his body was the remains of his wallet, found three hundred feet from the body. There's pictures of the crime scene if you need them to get Sehun to talk. But don't use them unless you need to. Be clear but unyielding. Ask the questions and give away as little information as possible. Don't let him think he's got to you."

"I know how to run interrogations, Chanyeol." Jongdae replies, flicking through the thick leaflet of papers in his hand. Then he remembers how his previous interrogation went and winces.

Chanyeol's expression doesn't change, however, and he claps a hand on Jongdae's shoulder. "I know. But this is the only thing we have left." The warning is clear. Don't fuck it up. Then he offers a wan smile and squeezes Jongdae's shoulder. "Get something out of him we can use and I'll buy you breakfast for the rest of your life."

Jongdae looks at Sehun through the thin pane of glass and takes a steadying breath. "Deal."

Sehun looks up when Jongdae walks in, expression changing from boredom to shock to anger before finally settling back on indifference. "I know what you're here to do, but I told you already. I'm not saying anymore," he announces, crossing his arms protectively. "Do you best. All the others have already tried. Good luck with it too."

"When was the last time you saw your brother?" Jongdae questions, ignoring Sehun's sarcastic bite. If there's one thing he'd realized, it was that Sehun's bravado was a surprisingly flimsy shell covering a part of him that only wanted to do what was right by himself. And that Jongdae could understand.

"I dunno. Like forever. It's not like I can see him when I'm cooped in my cell the whole time." Sehun looks up as if challenging Jongdae to call him out on a lie. He doesn't stutter, but there is something different in the way his voice catches on the different intonations. Like he's preparing himself for something. Does he know about his brother already?

"Did he know what you were involved with? Did you contact him at all today?"

"No. We haven't talked at all since you guys found me. He has a job at the piers and he's been too busy to visit me since."

"Are you sure there's no connection between your brother and what you've been doing?" Jongdae presses watching as Sehun's cheek twitches. He shifts slightly, on edge, across from Jongdae and Jongdae knows that there's more to be uncovered about Oh Kibum.

"What's with all the questions about my brother? Jeez. Why don't you just ask him yourself? I'm not saying anymore."

Jongdae decides to hold off on telling Sehun for a little, trying instead to wring as much information out of him as possible without dropping the news. "Maybe we will," he says, staring at Sehun impassively. "If you're cooperative, we might even let him know that you say hi before we ask him a couple questions. Since we can't get anything out of you, maybe we'll try him instead. How long do you think he'd last before he spills?"

With a clang, Sehun suddenly lunges at Jongdae, face twisted in an ugly snarl and it takes all of Jongdae's training to not react. "Don't you dare," he spits out, face two inches away from Jongdae, eyes burning with icy fury. "If I found out that you've hurt my brot-"

"What would you do? You're stuck here until you go to trial for your part in the fires. You wouldn't be able to protect him. At least not before I got to him first. You might be air powered, but I can control electricity, remember? That at least, you should remember from all the time you spent watching me," Jongdae leans closer, matching Sehun's power play with one of his own. He's starting to feel sick, but he plows on. It's better this way, if Sehun resigns on his own volition. If Jongdae could break the news to him in a less harsh setting. "The human body has billions of nerve cells, each controlled by little electrical impulses that travel at high speeds. What do you think I can do with that?"

"You wouldn't," Sehun tries to argue confidently, but his voice wavers. "I know you. You told me last time you wanted to do what was right. You wouldn't have the guts."

"Someone told me what's right isn't always what's good," Jongdae shrugs, faking nonchalance. The words feel wrong on the tip of his tongue, but he persists, watching Sehun slowly start to crumble in front of him. "There's innocent lives on the line and I'll do anything I can to save them. Even if it means I have to talk to your brother if you won't talk to me." Sehun pales and for an instance, Jongdae thinks that he's going to crack. He lets the silence continue to speak for him and a hope begins to rise in his chest. Maybe it doesn't have to be this way.

But then Sehun shakes his head defiantly. "Talk to him." And the feeling in Jongdae's chest shatters.

He was so close. Attempting one last push, Jongdae tries to keep the desperation from seeping into his voice. "I'll find him then. You won't be able to stop me. I'll set all his nerve endings alight. He'll feel like he's burning alive, being slowly consumed by acid, but it won't stop and he won't die. You helped take out my partner. I'll do the same to your brother. He won't be able to even see straight by the time I'm done with him. Even if survives the experience, he'll have to relive it every time he closes his eyes. I'll make sure of that." A wave of nausea sweeps over him and he has to fight to keep the shudder down, but it's nothing compared to the transformation Sehun's undergoing.

If Sehun had looked gaunt before, he looks like living death now. Tied to the world of the living by sheer will power. Give in. Jongdae wants to yell. Make it easier for both of us. He's watched one person break today. He doesn't want to be responsible for another one. Watching Sehun bite his lip down, battling his own inner turmoil, Jongdae can only pray for Sehun to submit.

When Sehun opens his mouth again, Jongdae knows that he's made his decision and Jongdae can only hope that it's the right one now. It's not. "Go fucking talk to him yourself. And go to hell while you're at it."

Jongdae has to force the next words out of his mouth. "We would, except he's dead. Lying in burnt pieces at the morgue two stories below us. Destroyed in the same type of fires that you caused."

He can almost hear the sound of Sehun's heart breaking as the room falls silent. "You're lying," he whispers, lips pressed so thin that Jongdae can barely see them.

In response, Jongdae pushes the folder across the table towards Sehun. "Take a look for yourself."

The minutes stretch on in silent as Sehun turns the pages. For the first few, he only stares on, disbelieving. However, as he keeps going through, his face morphs into one of heart wrenching anguish. As he watches the change, Jongdae's own fingernails dig hard enough into the palm of his hand to draw blood.

"Will you tell me now?" He pries gently. "Whoever you worked with killed your brother. You talked about wanting to stop the collateral damage. Protecting the innocent. Yet your brother is dead because of them today."

Sehun shakes his head, pressing his hand to his eyes as if to ward off the shake in his shoulders and Jongdae closes his eyes. He can't give Sehun the privacy he wishes to, but he can offer this small mercy. When he opens them again, Sehun has slightly composed himself.

"Kibum was the first. It was only him and I until his friends came along. Then it was the six of us. None of us had anything, but we were all survivors. We were tired of being numbers on a page, sacrificial lambs for slaughter. Kibum and I had lost a sister and a mother. The others had lost someone too. You don't know what it's like for ordinary people sometimes. It's easier for me because I'm powered, but them? They have nothing but their brains and will. You could crush them so easily and they would only be able to stand and watch."

"So you wanted to take down the powers of the city?"

Sehun nods, tilting his head so that the severe lighting casts long shadows over his face. "Kibum's friends might not be powered, but they were smart. We built our base of operations at the old ferry pier by the Han river and over the years, they developed technology that allowed them to mimic the effects of powers. And we started out small at first, testing it out on easy targets with low security. Once we grew confident that we could manage that, we branched out, hitting at larger supply complexes to put a dent in your resources. We figured that if we could take down superheroes, we could send a warning to all the other powers. Don't play god because even god bows down to the unbelieving."

"Then what? You started targeting civilians? The same people you wanted to protect in the first place?"

"No," Sehun hunches over defensively. "We never killed anyone we didn't need to."

"Then the Byun residence? 243 Sajikro Street? The apartment building? What about the people who died there?" Jongdae asks.

"The apartment was a mistake. We wanted to take down superheroes, but their identities remained a secret from the public. Minho, one of Kibum's friends said he knew a way to find them though. There was a hooker, Byun Jungah, that serviced many of them, who knew all their real names and addresses, so we went looking for her. But when we looked in the directory for Byuns, we found the wrong one. It was a different one. A man that lived in the apartment. We didn't find out until we after we ransacked the apartment and burned the place down."

"And you didn't stop to consider that you were doing exactly what you despised? You hated us because you thought we operated without limits, yet you guys decide to form some vigilante justice group?" Jongdae can't stop the anger from rising up this time and he clenches at the table, knuckles turning white.

"It goes both ways, doesn't it? You look down on us, yet you do the same. Two sides of the same coin, right?" Sehun returns recklessly. "Only difference is, we care about the little ones."

Jongdae pushes back his chair, ready to stand when a hand clamps down on his arm, forcing him down into the chair. "I'll take over from here, thank you," Kyungsoo says stiffly. When Jongdae tries to protest, the hand on his arm closes like a vice and he stills. The few seconds give him a chance to clear his head and as he realizes the implications of what he was going to do, Jongdae nods soundlessly and exits the room.

Already waiting on the other side, Chanyeol holds out a steaming mug of coffee, and Jongdae accepts it while avoiding the concerned glance Chanyeol keeps trying to shoot him. "You okay?" Chanyeol asks, crowding next to Jongdae and Jongdae looks up testily.

"I'm fine," he answers curtly, pressing his nose down towards the mug to breathe in the wafting aroma.

"Jongdae, I might not be telepathic, but I know you were about to lose it out there," Chanyeol says. "He's a kid for gods sake. He doesn't even fully know what he's talking about. He's just spewing the bullshit his older brother fed him. What's wrong with you? Suho didn't even want me to let you back near Sehun after last time, but I convinced him to give you one more chance."

Rage flares up once again and Jongdae sets the mug down with a clunk. "So now it's my fault he's a bratty little shithead? You couldn't even get anything out of him without me. If he's old enough to kill innocent people, he's old enough to realize the consequences of his actions."

"And then what? We catch them, lock them up, yell at them until they agree with you?"

"He helped kill Baekhyun's mom."

"I know, but that doesn't mean we can treat him any differently. We're going to catch the others and then turn them over to the court because that's the right thing to do. Isn't that what you're always going on about?"

"I don't even know anymore," Jongdae retorts shaking his head. He pushes Chanyeol away and heads for the door.

"Where are you going?" Chanyeol yells and Jongdae can hear his footsteps following him into the hallway outside.

"I'm going to tell Junmyeon. He's not going to answer the phone this late in the night, but I know where he lives. If we hurry, we can get a team out to the piers and end this tonight."

"Are you crazy? We don't even know everything yet."

Jongdae stops to whirl around. "And what? Wait for them to kill some more people?"

Chanyeol doesn't reply and Jongdae takes this as an opportunity to push his way out the door and head into the night.

---

Thankfully Junmyeon lives in the nicer part of the city, nearby the police station, or Jongdae would have had to walk a lot further to get to his apartment. It's almost dawn and the street are finally empty so Jongdae takes the opportunity to stare up into the skyline while walking, letting his feet take him to his destination while he has his head up in the sky above.

Junmyeon's apartment, ten stories above one of the busiest districts of Seoul, is surprisingly humble for someone of his position. It's clear that Junmyeon, pragmatic as ever, had chosen his home for location rather than materialistic advantages. From the outside, no one would have been able to tell that the director of MAMA lived in a slightly peeling apartment with the ugliest doorstop in existence.

It takes Jongdae several rings of the doorbell before Junmyeon opens the door, still dressed in a tracksuit of all things. When Jongdae raises his eyebrow at his boss's attire, Junmyeon just sighs, running his hand through his hair. "Couldn't sleep so I was on the treadmill." He, like everyone else working the case, looks exhausted. Junmyeon directs a pointed look at the watch on his wrist and then looks up disapprovingly. "How did you even find my apartm - wait actually I don't think I even want to know. Can I help you, Jongdae?"

"It's Sehun," Jongdae explains and Junmyeon's eyebrows shoot up.

"The suspect we caught?"

"He cracked. We know everything we need to know about them. It's a four man group now, excluding Sehun. They're out to target superheroes and are located out in a pier by the Han River."

With every word, Junmyeon's eyebrows continue to rise, though he waits for Jongdae to finish before he stifles a yawn. "And you couldn't just shoot me an email because…?"

"We know where they are now, but not when their next attack is. If we wait, they could take out some more people in their next move," Jongdae argues, grabbing Junmyeon's arm. Why don't any of them understand?

"Jongdae, I appreciate your concern, but rushing out without an pre-planning only seems to work for you and Minseok. I can't just call Yixing and Taehyung in and expect them to successfully capture four suspects that have eluded all our efforts so far. I let you participate in this case because you're one of the best, but you have to recognize limits. Both ours and yours." Junmyeon removes Jongdae's hand from his arm firmly, though he doesn't kick Jongdae out.

"I know," Jongdae says frustrated. "But we should be doing something right now. Anything. How many more people are going to get hurt before we can stop everything?" He looks into Junmyeon's eyes, pouring all of his frustration and hope into trying to silently communicate his wish. "Please."

Junmyeon looks back and the corner of his mouth twists uncertainly before finally he nods. Knowing Kim Junmyeon, he's probably running various calculations in his head right now, weighing the advantages and disadvantages in a complicated game of chess. Except this isn't chess and they are the pieces. "Alright, let me get changed and we can head over the station to see what we can do."

Between the moment Junmyeon finishes speaking and the moment he turns around to head back into the recesses of his apartment, an eerie déjà vu stretches, setting all of Jongdae's sense on high alert. "Wait," he calls and Junmyeon freezes, hand still on the doorknob.

The first attacker drops without warning, the second with only a soft thud next to Jongdae's ear. It's the same as last time, Jongdae thinks with dawning horror, but when he turns around, there's a third rounding the staircase with startling velocity. Dodging a powerful blow aimed at his chest, Jongdae lets instinct take over, making a run for the open window at the other end of the stairwell, followed closely by one of the masked figures. In the split second he has, he looks ten stories down to see a giant pond right below. And even in the situation, he can't help but laugh because of course Junmyeon would. Junmyeon, sly and cunning, would choose an apartment in an environment he can use to his maximum benefit.

Throwing a glance back to where Junmyeon is struggling with the other two, Jongdae ducks under his approaching attacker's arm to throw an elbow into the one about to launch a blow at Junmyeon's neck. "The window," he yells and Junmyeon's eyes widen in understanding. In a fluid motion, Junmyeon wrenches the window open wider and dives out, Jongdae following him, leaving the attackers stunned, looking at the now wide open window.

The fall downwards almost seems to happen in slow motion as Jongdae twists upwards to see one of the figures perching at the edge of the windowsill, like he's wondering whether or not he should jump. And just before he twists around to look at the lake surface hurtling at him, now being lit by the rising sun, the figure leaps. A bird taking to the air.

Then the water comes up to envelop him and separated from the rest of the world in a dizzying barrier of bubbles and murky darkness, Jongdae distantly hears three other weights plunging into the water around him in quick succession. Floundering helplessly, Jongdae tries to claw his way back up, but the initial impact had knocked enough air out of his lungs to feel the effects immediately. He flails helplessly as his chest tightens, screaming for air. Looking up into the dim light filtering in from the surface of the lake, a hand looms in his vision and he panics, coughing out the last bit of his precious air in an attempt to get away. It catches hold of his shirt and Jongdae feels the momentous tug upwards until he breaks the surface, gasping for air as his lungs burn.

"You okay?" Junmyeon asks, treading water besides him. Jongdae pants harshly, unable to answer, but he brings his hand up to signal a thumbs up. The moment of relief is short-lived however, as the attackers begin to surface as well, a short distance away behind Junmyeon.

"Behind you," Jongdae croaks and Junmyeon whips around before turning towards Jongdae.

"Hold on to me," he orders, "and don't let go." And Jongdae automatically complies, wrapping his arms around Junmyeon's shoulders. Around them the water begins to churn, rising up to deposit them on the bank in a twisted geyser. Jongdae clutches at solid ground for a moment, rattling breath leaving his chest in a sigh of relief, before he stumbles to his feet unsteadily. This is the first time Jongdae had ever seen Junmyeon use his power, but now, he thinks he can understand why Junmyeon had achieved his position as head of MAMA in such a short time. Like many other superheroes, Junmyeon possesses not only the raw power needed to perform such a feat, but also the finesse to rein in the unfiltered destructive force so that he could lift them both out of the water safely.

Before Jongdae can fully catch his breath, a boom sounds off across the water and everything goes flying. He's thrown into the building behind him, glass shattering underneath his back in a blinding explosion of pain. There's the sound of someone screaming next to him and he blinks, disoriented, rolling over with a pained groan. A baby's wail joins the chaos and in the distance, he thinks he can hear the shrill call of sirens in the background. The police are coming soon and this was not the way he wanted to meet up with Chanyeol.

Another blast sounds next to him and Jongdae jerks back, a stinging pain cutting through his ear, and looks straight up into the barrel of the gun. The figure is soaked to the bone, panting heavily, but the gun levelled at Jongdae's face is steady. Fear shoots through Jongdae's veins and he instinctively brings a hand up as if that could block the bullet. "Don't do this," he grits out. "Sehun told me everything already."

At the name, the attacker stiffens. Using the distraction to his advantage, Jongdae reaches out lightning quick to wraps his fingers around the man's wrist. Their suits might have prevented him from shocking them the last they fight, but they are wet to the bone and if even a drop of water is touching their flesh, Jongdae has the upper hand. There are few electrical conduits better than water after all. He unleashes his stored up electricity through his fingertips and the figure emits a guttural cry before convulsing to the ground. The gun drops too and Jongdae reaches out to grab it before tottering to his feet.

The dust clears slightly and now he can see the remains of a room around him. He must have been blasted into the first floor apartment during the explosion and from the looks of it, he isn't alone. There's screams coming from the other room and Jongdae dashes towards it, flinging open the door. The remains of a living room stands in front of him, ground charred and soaked with water. One of the attackers lays unconscious, strewn at the feet of the couch while a woman cowers with her baby in the corner. Junmyeon is kneeling limp in the middle of the room, the man in black poised above him, executioner and his victim.

Firing at the figure, Jongdae misses the first time, but grazes his arm the second time and the figure jumps back with a hiss. Junmyeon drops to the ground with a startled groan, eye swollen shut, but before Jongdae can do anything else, the woman screams again, sobbing hysterically. There's a knife at her throat, an arm wrapped around her chest and she clutches at it, kicking out fruitlessly.

"Don't move."

Slowly, Jongdae lowers the gun, but he keeps it trained in the same direction, muscles tensed to move at any movement. Within the grasp of the attacker, the woman breathes hard, a shuddering exhale and opens her eyes. Please, she begs. Save me. I have a child. I need to live for her. The call for help is intimately familiar, but this time Jongdae can't do anything. For a second, Jongdae thinks of Oh Sehun. Eighteen and ready to take on the world in ways Jongdae still isn't ready for. Fighting for a sister dead by Jongdae's hands, a brother dead by the hands of the man standing in front of him.

"Jongdae, shoot him," Junmyeon wheezes from the ground. His fingers move mechanically towards the trigger, dutiful like the soldier he is in a war he doesn't know what he's fighting for. But he hesitates, just for a second, and it's enough.
An arc of silver flashes towards Junmyeon's unprotected chest and he falls in slow motion, crumpling to the ground with a spray of blood. The figure Jongdae had taken out before stands behind him, looking down with a detached interest. When the situation registers, Jongdae raises his arm to shoot again, catching the man in the shoulder, right above the heart and he too crumples. Another soldier in the same war. Lined up in the same firing line. He's caught by his partner before he hits the ground and before Jongdae can blink, a bright flash blinds him, giving the two cover to escape.

The woman falls to her knees, stumbling away towards her child, sob dissolving into a devastating whimper. Jongdae too, falls, too weary to stand and he crawls towards Junmyeon. The sirens are close enough to overpower the sound of the woman's grief and they illuminate the room with a flickering fire of blue and red. In the distance, the sun begins to rise.

Chanyeol finds him, kneeling over Junmyeon, fingers pressed over his chest in a desperate effort to staunch the blood. Faintly, he realizes he’s crying.

---

Baekhyun is waiting for him when he returns back to his apartment and he ushers Jongdae in when Chanyeol drops him off. The paramedics cleaned and bandaged Jongdae's back, shredded raw by glass, but he had refused to stay in the hospital any longer against Chanyeol's furious protest. Instead, Jongdae had only stayed long enough to see Junmyeon wheeled into surgery strapped to a gurney, alive but just barely, and then headed out through the front doors to go back home. Chanyeol caught him a few minutes later, bone tired, but determined to make it back home by sheer force of willpower, and Chanyeol, with a scowl, told Jongdae to get in the car because goddammit he was not going to let Jongdae die just two blocks away from his apartment. He had handed Jongdae a new phone too, complete with all the information Jongdae had thankfully backed up before from his old phone.

Drugged on painkillers, Jongdae stumbles as he crosses the threshold, caught only by Baekhyun's steadying hands. The curtains are drawn shut and Jongdae is thankful, not ready to face the light of the morning yet when all he wants to do is drown in an endless sleep for the rest of eternity. He's coaxed into his bed as gentle hands strip him of his clothing like a child and he struggles against the wave of sleep to look up one last time before falling into the sheets below. "Sleep," Baekhyun whispers. Jongdae's eyelids slide down, weighed down by a drug-fueled lethargy, and he does.

In his dreams, the bullet spirals out of the chamber in a deathly waltz, spinning to the three quarter time of his heartbeat. It's the same set up, the hangman in the center of the room, the punished at his feet and the woman crying in the corner. Except this time, Jongdae's the judge, the jury, the executioner, gun warm underneath his hands. And he can't do anything but watch the bullet transform into a crackling arc of electricity that slices through Junmyeon's chest. The woman screams and the bolt of electricity ricochets, killing her instantly too. She transforms into Kyungsoo, Baekhyun, the child under her arms, and each time, they too, die by his hand.

He wakes up screaming, pillow wet with tears. The clock blinks delicately at his bedside. 12:32. There's the sound of someone shuffling in the kitchen, smell of breakfast wafting into the bedroom and it's so domestic that for a moment, he thinks the events of the previous day were a part of the dream too. But when he tries to turn over, the wounds on his back split open again under the movement and he groans, trying to stave off the burning pain. Rolling out of bed is clearly not an option so he crawls instead, grabbing onto the sheets below to maneuver into a position where he can lower himself to the ground.

When he finally hits the ground, he staggers up, making his way to the kitchen in a daze. The curtains are flung open, washing the room with a brilliant light, and Jongdae has to squint his eyes until they adjust to the newfound brightness. Baekhyun is at the counter, making some sort of scrambled eggs, and he looks up when Jongdae enters, haggard but there. His eyes are half-open like he's in a halfway state between dreaming and waking and he smiles understandingly.

"Breakfast?" He asks, holding up the saucepan. And Jongdae shakes his head even though he hadn't eaten since the night before. The light is still too bright so he brings his hand up to shade his eyes before he continues into the room to sit at the kitchen table. Baekhyun follows him, tugging the curtains shut with a fluid motion and Jongdae looks at him gratefully.

"Thanks."

There's a first aid kit under the counter that Jongdae retrieves before gingerly sitting down again. Tugging off his shirt, he winces, examining the bandages lining his back. He wants to block out the memories of the night before, but they keep coming back, shackled to him by the evidence on his back. Carefully beginning to peel off the bandages, Jongdae is thankful for his accelerated healing, courtesy of being a power. He cranes his neck to look at the mirror behind him where he can see that most gashes have mostly closed up, although they still burn an angry red.

It's difficult to reach around like this so Jongdae is thankful when cool fingers touch his hands, taking a hold of the bandages before continuing them to peel them off. They had stuck to his back over the night and when they are ripped off, they take off pieces of skin as well. Jongdae shudders at the movement, but Baekhyun's hands are slow and steady as they methodically remove each piece. Halfway down the back, in a particularly vicious piece of gauze stuck to the right side of his back, Baekhyun twists the bandage, sending a tearing pain down Jongdae's side and Jongdae has to muffle a groan a pain.

The hands still and Baekhyun shakes his head. "I can't do it do like this." And he disappears into the other room for a couple of seconds before reappearing with a bottle of brandy and a couple of pills. Jongdae doesn't want to know where Baekhyun had found his stash of alcohol nor the handful of pills he's sure don't belong to him, but he does accept the glass. The amber liquid swirls around the glass several times before he downs the glass in one shot, takes a couple of pills, and then pours another glass to down that one as well.

Baekhyun too, takes a glass and drinks with a soft exhale.

"I'm kind of a mess right now, aren't I," Jongdae chuckles darkly. "Sorry about that."
The painkillers are starting to kick in and he bows his head as Baekhyun begins stripping off all his bandages again. "Aren't we all?" Baekhyun asks, biting down on his lip in concentration as he works at another particularly difficult spot. He shrugs. "I'm not going to judge."

A stray thought hits his mind and he remembers what Jongin had said before. “Why did you come back?”

“What?”

“Why did you come back to Seoul?” Jongdae clarifies.

Baekhyun doesn’t reply and too done to chase after an answer, Jongdae lets the silence take over The final bandage comes away with a slight sting and Jongdae's back bows with relief at the feeling. "You're not going to make me talk about yesterday?"

Baekhyun shrugs again, the motion of his shoulder, caught in the beam of the warm sunlight, is oddly graceful, and he reaches into the first aid kit to take out a fresh roll of gauze to bandage up Jongdae's back. "You're not going to make me talk about my mom?" He counters. Jongdae looks up at Baekhyun who looks back at him expectantly, silent agreement stretching between them.

"You know, it's probably healthier to talk about our issues," Jongdae contemplates, running his finger along the edge of his glass. He rests his chin on the table, looking into the dark liquid before lowering the glass to his lips and lets it slide into his mouth. Some dribbles out onto the smooth wooden table below, but he doesn't care.

"What issues?"

And Jongdae gets the point. He had forgotten that Baekhyun, former roommate turned acting singer phenomenon, was good at burying his problems so deep that they would never see the light of day unless dredged out by some extraordinary effort. He wonders if they fester underneath, if that's why Baekhyun carries little blue pills that wipe out the pain better than anything Jongdae receives from the doctors. If that's why Baekhyun is looking at him right now, like it's a performance and Jongdae is holding camera. Testing out the unwritten script, Jongdae rests his hand on his chin and focuses only on the way Baekhyun's fingers are cool on the flushed skin of his back, the way the sunlight still streams through the crack between the curtain that uncovers parts of the kitchen that would otherwise be hidden in the shadow.

Baekhyun finishes the bandaging with a flourish and he sits across Jongdae, fingers interlocked in a pretty knot. "Better?" He asks and Jongdae take the question, doubly loaded with meaning and chooses which one he wants to answer with another long drink of brandy.

"Much," he tries, nodding.

It doesn't work though, the thoughts still lurk at the edge of his mind, swarming just beyond his conscious like piranhas ready to jump. He focuses on how Baekhyun's eyelashes dip when he nods, how he looks pretty sitting there though there's circles under his eyes, bite-marks on his lips, how he kind of wants to kiss him right there and now, but the problem still lingers, bubbling right underneath his skin and ready to explode at the slightest trigger. Junmyeon spread out on the gurney in the surgery room. The woman covered with blood. The child witnessing nightmares that will plague her for the rest of her life even after she forgets the event.

Desperate to shake off the swirling images, Jongdae leans over to press his lips against Baekhyun's. Anything to ward off thinking for just a while. Underneath him, Baekhyun stills before leaning in too. And it works. The way Baekhyun opens up unleashes a flood of emotions Jongdae hadn't realized since before he became a superhero: the longing, the hope, the faith. And maybe Jongdae had been better at this burying unthinkable memories than he thought because suddenly the day Baekhyun left rises in his mind, unbidden.

Baekhyun in his mind, six years younger, unpolished and happy leaves for China with only a suitcase and wave. Jongdae watches from the window, feeling a sense of missed opportunity and lost love. Baekhyun looks up and their eyes meet. His eyes flash sad for a moment and Jongdae rushes down stairs to say don't leave, I'll miss you, I think we have something here. And Baekhyun reaches to caress his face with a soft laugh. I have to, but you're right, let's do this, he replies and presses a kiss to Jongdae's cheek before he leaves. A reminder, a promise and most of all, a signature of faith unspoken and kept.

Except that's not what happens. Baekhyun's eyes flash sad and then he smiles. Jongdae remains at the window with a frozen grin watching as Baekhyun gets in the car with Chanyeol and pulls away into the horizon. They still text daily, but the perseverance of faith begins to crumble and then Jongdae is sitting in the graduation room of his superhero training, Baekhyun but a footnote in his life story.

This Baekhyun, present and very real, pulls away breathing hard, snapping Jongdae back into the now. He stares at Jongdae from underneath his lashes, frown tugging at the edge of his mouth and confusion infused in the way his eyebrows furrow. He looks oddly vulnerable like this, like Jongdae had destroyed whatever defenses he had erected. "I - " he begins, but then he shakes his head and leans back in, cupping Jongdae's jaw to pull him back in. The proximity of him makes Jongdae drunker than any alcohol or drug and he stumbles forwards, placing an arm against the table to support himself.

Baekhyun chuckles against his lips and tugs him upwards and out of the chair so that they're pressing against the countertop. Jongdae can't imagine the hard edge of the marble is comfortable pressing against Baekhyun's ass, but Baekhyun doesn't mind, letting Jongdae crowd him backwards. Alcohol might dull the edges of his actions, but Jongdae is sober enough to know that he's acting on years of suppressed feelings in addition to his need to forget. Baekhyun slips a thigh between Jongdae's legs and hooks an arm around his neck, and buries his face within the crook of Jongdae's neck, breathing him in, an oddly intimate gesture. It's an unspoken confession, whether intentional or not, and Jongdae pauses.

"Are we-?" He asks hesitantly even as his fingers continue to rub circles in the just of Baekhyun's hips. He wants to go slow, take Baekhyun on dates, cuddle on the couch whispering sweet nothings now that he knows his feelings are mutual. It took him seven years to get here and he wants to do it right.

Baekhyun looks at him, shock slightly coloring his features. "I mean," he leans back, away from Jongdae, "If you don't want to, that's fine." But he already looks more detached, like he's pulling away both physically and emotionally and a fear seizes at Jongdae.

So he shakes his head. "I do," he says, voice thick. Baekhyun makes a small noise in affirmation and Jongdae can't pick it apart. It sounds strangely like relief or satisfaction or maybe both. He kisses him again and lets Baekhyun guide him back towards the bedroom, careful of his back.

It's almost surreal. Baekhyun laying flushed against the sheets, reaching over to take off his shirt in one fluid motion, Jongdae reaching over to grab the lube from his bedside table as Baekhyun tries to strip him of his pants. Jongdae crawls back upwards press his lips to the hollow of Baekhyun's throat, taking pleasure in the way Baekhyun arches up, grinding up into him, and Jongdae moans.

He lets Baekhyun take the lube from him as he traces the curve of Baekhyun's cheek, feeling warm and undone. And then Baekhyun pulls him down, parting his legs to let Jongdae fall in between, until they're so close that Jongdae can't seem to tell where he ends and Baekhyun begins. Jongdae shifts, rutting against and Baekhyun's hips and Baekhyun's fingertips dig into Jongdae's shoulders, leaving crescent marks. It's not enough though and reaches down to fumble with Baekhyun's pants, sliding them off so that he lays bare beneath him, and that Jongdae can spill the lube between them and curl a hand around them both.

With a flick of his wrist, Baekhyun tenses before emitting a small groan and lets his head fall back, hair pillowing around him like a halo. And Jongdae, caught in the feeling of the slide and burn, ignores the burn on his back that twinges with every movement to reach up with the other hand and intertwine his fingers with Baekhyun, pressing him into the mattress. He twists again and Baekhyun cries out this time, peering up at him, devastatingly beautiful in the way he bites his lips to try to stifle any further noises.

Shaking slightly, Baekhyun reaches down to stop Jongdae from moving again. "Let me do it," he says. And it's almost a plea, a call for submission, and Jongdae removes his hand to grab at Baekhyun's hips again. Baekhyun's fingers take his place, holding them together as Baekhyun twists underneath him, hips hitching up so that Jongdae curses, unable to stop the way his body reacts, jerking down. The pressure builds up as Baekhyun continues, and caught in the storm, Jongdae bites down at Baekhyun's shoulder, trying to tether himself to Baekhyun forever.

"I lov - " he tries, but a moan rips his way out of his mouth, interrupting what he was trying to say. From underneath him, something fearful flickers in Baekhyun's eye as he stiffens before relaxing again and Jongdae struggles to wrap his head around why. He wants to ask Baekhyun about it, but Baekhyun's fingers continue downwards until they settle at his base, closing tight so that Jongdae can't come. With a whine of protest, Jongdae tries to shake him off, but Baekhyun holds tight and leans up to press his lips against the side of Jongdae's jaw.

"Beg for it," he murmurs, eyes dark. When Jongdae tries to resist, he shifts up again, creating a sweet friction that has Jongdae utterly wrecked. "Jongdae," he says, voice sliding insidiously into Jongdae's ear. A siren's call.

"Please," he gasps and Baekhyun smiles. He lets go and with one final twist, Jongdae spine bows downwards as he comes with a shuddering exhale. Baekhyun's hand stills so Jongdae can pull away, but Jongdae doesn't. Instead, he presses his mouth over Baekhyun's one last time and reaches downwards, next to Baekhyun's own hand and jerks upwards with a final motion. Baekhyun comes too, mouth open in a silent cry against Jongdae's lips and Jongdae finally collapses, overwhelmingly satisfied.

"We should probably clean up," he mutters, moving to get up, but Baekhyun hooks a leg around him so that he can't move.

"No," Baekhyun mutters, voice already tinged with an adorable lethargy. "Sleep."

And Jongdae does.

---

He wakes up to an empty bed, feeling like he needs to throw up and he stumbles to the bathroom and does so. The apartment is empty, bereft of Baekhyun's belongings and Jongdae flits from room to room, looking for some evidence that Baekhyun was even there in the first place. There is none. Something pricks at his eyes and he sits down at the edge of his bed angrily. He should have known. Jongin had told him. You won’t even realize until he’s gone and the bed’s empty. Had he read the signs wrong?

A chime sounds from his new phone and he moves robotically to retrieve it. It's from Chanyeol. Junmyeon is fine. A wave of relief goes through Jongdae, but it doesn't offset the anxiety. With a quick look, he sees he has three more messages awaiting him. One is from Minseok, telling Jongdae to meet him at the piers. The other two are from Baekhyun.

Sorry.

Then:

I locked myself out of your apartment, but I'm at the café we were at with Chanyeol. Can we talk?

Another spike of anger hits Jongdae and he throws the phone onto the table with a clack. The phone has just hit the table when it rings again and Jongdae looks at it for a moment before finally picking it up again.

"Hello?"

"Jongdae, it's Suho. I know you’re technically not supposed to be working the case, but can you come to the piers? Get dressed in your suit too."

Jongdae frowns, checking the time. "Now?"

"It's an emergency. Have you checked the news? We need you and Minseok."

"I'm on my way."

---

The piers are swarming with activity by the time Jongdae arrives. Not only are there police officers, but other officials Jongdae recognizes from MAMA, and several media crews, filming with their overly large cameras. Minseok is there too, mask already on, talking to Kyungsoo and he waves Jongdae over as soon as he sees him.

"Is that you, Jongdae?" Kyungsoo peers at him curiously and Jongdae realizes that Kyungsoo has never seen Jongdae as Chen, the superhero.

Minseok clears his throat hastily and Jongdae rushes to reply. "It's erm - actually me, Chen." And a look of comprehension dawns in Kyungsoo's eyes. "What happened? I didn't get a chance to look at the news before I came over."

"It's our favorite group of vigilantes. We sent in a team earlier today to arrest them, but something went on and they haven't come out since. When we tried to go in after them, they took several hostages from the local area and threatened to blow the place if we even tried to set foot inside."

A sense of dread hits Jongdae. "And the hostages?" He asks.

Minseok shakes his head. "We don't know. Yoongi estimated there were about three before all communication cut off."

"Then why is all the media here?"

"The kidnappers put a video up. A fan recognized Byun Baekhyun's face as one of
them and it's gone viral. We need to resolve this situation as quickly as possible. Chinese star gets blown up in Korea? Can you imagine the mess."

Jongdae goes cold. "Are they still alive?"

This time Kyungsoo cuts in. "We confirmed they were still alive an hour ago. Junmyeon suggested we bring Minseok and you in. You guys will go and extract the hostages. Chanyeol will go with you guys. We figured the less people we send in, the better. The hostages are in a separate room from the group so get in and get out as quickly as possible. Do you understand?"

"And Sehun's friends?" Jongdae wants to know. This was their chance to end things for once and for all.

But Kyungsoo shakes his head. "It's too dangerous for you three along. We have them surrounded for now and we will fight them if they try to get out, but for now we're focusing on the hostages only. Chanyeol has been looking at a map of the building and will lead the way for both of you. Don't try to engage them, Jongdae."

At another time, Jongdae would have tried to argue, but he remembers the last time Junmyeon and him had tried to fight three of them. There will be four or this time. And Minseok just got out of the hospital. He nods, sinking feeling in stomach. There is so much potential for collateral damage in the area. The reporters, the restaurants in the area, the hostages. With all the public scrutiny, he can only hope that nothing will go wrong this time.

"You guys good to go?" He and Minseok nod and Kyungsoo puts a hand on Jongdae's shoulder. "Good luck," he says with a small reassuring squeeze.

Chanyeol jogs over with a wave. "Did Kyungsoo fill you guys in?"

"Yeah," Jongdae tries to say, but it gets stuck in throat and Minseok shrugs an arm over his shoulder.

"We're ready when you are," Minseok says and Chanyeol grins.

"Alright, let's go."

He leads them to a covered up cellar towards the side of the building. "We'll be entering the building from here. There's a small chamber to the side where the hostages are held, but just follow me. Hopefully, they don't know about this entrance and we'll be able to enter undetected. I'm under orders to retreat if this escalates into a fight so it'll just be an easy in and out. I'm linked to Kyungsoo through an earpiece so he'll be relaying to me information. We're also tracking their heat signatures so if they make any move, we will know."

He yanks the cover of the cellar open and gestures at Jongdae and Minseok to follow him into the darkness. The passageway is narrow and grimy, reeking of something rotten and Jongdae tries not to gag as he follows Chanyeol. It's so dark that he can only barely see Chanyeol's back. Behind him Minseok brushes against him accidentally and he jumps.

"Easy there," Minseok snickers and Jongdae throws a jab at his ribs in retaliation. Chanyeol shushes them.

Within a couple of minutes, they reach a rusty bolted door at the end of the corridor and Chanyeol presses his ear against it, listening. When he gets up, Jongdae tries the doorknob, but it doesn't budge underneath his hands.

"Let me try," Minseok whispers and Chanyeol and Jongdae part to let him through. Minseok presses his hands to the door and a slow, glimmering frost begins to creep its way up the rusted metal. When the whole door is covered, Minseok pulls back and it shatters under the motion.

Chanyeol whistles. "Nice." And Minseok grins.

The inside room is lit by a small skylight and there's another bolted door on the opposite side. There's a group of people huddled in the corner, bound by ropes, and if Jongdae squints he thinks he can see Baekhyun towards the back whose eyes widen when he sees Chanyeol. Jongdae's still angry, but he takes a slight breath, reminding himself to stay focused on the goal of the mission.

With a small tug, Chanyeol snaps Jongdae back to attention and they move to free the hostages silently, cutting open the ropes with the knife Chanyeol had brought along and ungagging them. Yoongi is nowhere in sight and Jongdae shudders thinking about what might have happened to him. When Jongdae gets to Baekhyun, he moves quickly, slicing open the ropes binding Baekhyun's arms and removes the gag gently.

Under the mask, he tries to avoid Baekhyun's eyes, but Baekhyun pulls him back before Jongdae can move onto the next hostage. "Thank you," he says smiling. He looks slightly dirtied up and there's a gash on his arm, but other than that he looks fine.

Not trusting himself to speak, Jongdae just nods and turns to unbind the woman next to Baekhyun. They've finished freeing all the hostages when a crash sounds from the floor above and Jongdae freezes, looking at Minseok and Chanyeol. For a few seconds, they hardly breathe before another crash sounds from above, shaking the entire building. And then pandemonium breaks out, the hostages shoving each other to get out to the passage in a hurried frenzy. A scream rings out as a woman is slammed to the ground and Chanyeol breaks into action.

"Get out and as far away as the building as possible," he yells, ushering everyone into the door where they came from. There's a loud banging on the opposite door and it's flung open, revealing the same masked figure as before. He looks at Chanyeol, Minseok and Jongdae, then turns to see the hostages fleeing through the door, he freezes before raising his gun towards the door.

Too late, Jongdae reaches out for the man. The gun goes off, but no one falls. Instead, the door explodes, metal twisting viciously and the wall crumbles down to fill the gap. The whole building teeters, half of the hostages trapped inside, and Jongdae looks around in horror, trying to figure out what to do next. Besides him, Chanyeol has gone pale. The man raises his gun again, this pointing at the ceiling, but Minseok tackles him to the ground before the man can pull the trigger. They fall to the ground and Minseok yells something muffled, but Jongdae understands.

"Let's go," Jongdae says.

Chanyeol pauses, eyes wild. "But Xiumin."

And Jongdae shakes his head. "He'll be fine, we have to get the hostages out. Round them up, I'm going to head up and take a look."

Understanding instantly, Chanyeol whips around. "Follow me and Chen," he orders and all of the hostages' heads snap around to look at him. Jongdae sprints ahead of them, through the door the attacker had come in from, following the twists and curves until he's in another room. It's bigger, more sprawling, and he figures this is where the main hideout was. Mostly bare save for a couple rolls of blankets and a pile of gadgets, the room contains the three perpetrators and two figures slumped unconscious in the middle.

It's Yixing and Taehyung. Looking behind to where Chanyeol is guiding the rest of the haggard looking hostages towards where Jongdae stands, Jongdae presses his finger to his lips and Chanyeol stops, waiting for Jongdae's signal.

"They're in there, but the only exit is beyond them," Jongdae tells Chanyeol and Chanyeol presses his lips together grimly. For a second Chanyeol is still, finger pressed against his earpiece and then he nods detachedly.

"Kyungsoo just told me the same thing. I know I told you not to engage them earlier, but it looks like we'll have no choice." Chanyeol motions for the hostages to stay where they are and they shrink back.

"On a count of three then," Jongdae says and Chanyeol nods. Jongdae thinks of Kyungsoo and Junmyeon, hoping that if Chanyeol and him fail, they will pull off one of their genius plans to save the rest of the hostages. And beyond the edge of desperation, Jongdae thinks of Baekhyun and hopes he will be one the lucky ones to get out. He holds up a finger.

One.

Two.

Three.

They burst into the room, Chanyeol with his gun, Jongdae with electricity crackling around him. If they die, Jongdae thinks, at least they'll have gone down fighting.

The room explodes into motion. Jongdae's electricity might not be able to damage the three figures in the center of the room, but it's bright enough to distract them before Chanyeol shoots, taking down one who crumples like a paper sack. Another shot rings down, but it misses as the second figure ducks down just in time behind a pillar. The third one launches himself at Jongdae, modified gun pointed at his chest. And Jongdae, having seen the destructive power of the gun downstairs, twists out of the way to avoid the shot that fires. It hits the wall instead and the entire section caves, revealing the outside world beyond and releasing a shockwave that sends Jongdae precariously to the edge. Two stories below, Jongdae can see the Han river rushing by, and he teeters precariously, hanging onto a metal beam jutting out. Then it hits him.

With a groan, he pulls himself back up again, making a dash for the corridor off the side of the room where he knows all the hostages are hiding. If they can get to the opening, those that can swim can jump into the river and be carried into safety by the current.

"Do all of you know how to swim?" He asks urgently and to his relief all of them nod. "Alright, then I'm going to lead you into the other room and distract the attackers. When I give you the signal, make a run for the river and jump in. There's police down the river that can help pull you guys out."

Without waiting for their reply, he turns around and launches himself into the fray where Chanyeol had been facing two of them at once. He's cornered on the other side and Jongdae takes advantage of this to motion the hostages to jump before launching himself at the one figure about to shoot the gun. This time pointed at Chanyeol's head. With a heavy satisfaction, he hears the consequent splashes that signified that his plan had worked. The one with the gun, however, turns with a furious scream, rage twisting his features behind the mask, and throws a punch that catches Jongdae in the mouth. Jongdae reels backwards and temporarily blinded by stars, he receives another blow to the head. This time he staggers to his knees.

Chanyeol hits the ground next to him, breathing heavily, wiping away blood off of his mouth. The two of them look up, and Chanyeol with his clenched teeth spits at the man holding the gun in front of him. He still hasn't accepted his fate, but Jongdae has. He looks into the barrel of the gun with a peaceful resignation, wondering if Minseok is doing okay downstairs. If Kyungsoo has found the hostages swept downstream by the river yet. If Baekhyun will mourn him when he's gone. The finger moves to the trigger and Jongdae stops breathing.

"Wait, Jinki," one of them says and the man holding the gun stops. "I want to see that one's face before we kill him." He points at Jongdae and then approaches him with a stark grin. "That one took out Taemin yesterday and almost got me too."
Jinki lowers his gun slightly, as if contemplating the words and finally nods. "If you move, I'll blow your heads off anyways," he says to Jongdae. Then he turns to his partner. "Go ahead, Minho."

Minho. The one who knew Baekhyun's mother and sold her out. Rage twists within Jongdae again and when Minho approaches him, he has to bite his lip to keep from lashing out. His mask is brutally wrenched off his face and the swirling breeze from the exposed room hits his face full force. Chanyeol stiffens besides him as Minho examines his face, capturing his jaw between two rough fingers and turning it over to peer at it curiously. "You're younger than I thought," he admits. "I thought you'd be like forty, but you look like you aren't even in your thirties." He stands up shrugging. "You'll die anyways though."

"What?" Jongdae taunts, "No monologue?"

Jinki laughs. It's harsh, echoing off the war before getting lost within the roar of the wind. "We're not dumb like those supervillains you usually battle. We could spill all our plans, giving you time to regroup and attack. Or we could just kill you." He raises his gun. "Sorry," he mocks. Minho stands back, watching as Jinki moves to pull the trigger.

Chanyeol closes his eyes and Jongdae looks down, ready for the inevitable explosion. Instead of the expected impact however, there's a grunt and someone falling and the sound of the gunshot going over their heads, bringing the wall behind them down. Jongdae's eyes snap back up, half-hoping it's Minseok come to save them. It's not Minseok however, and instead, he sees Baekhyun, caught in Minho's grasp as Jinki doubles over next them.

"Baekhyun?" He asks, voice incredulous and Baekhyun too, looks at him in shock. Before Baekhyun can answer, Jinki pushes himself back up, face still lined with pain. The gun is still in his hand and he shoots at Jongdae and Chanyeol again. This time, the gun merely clicks, devoid of any shots left.

With hope rising in his chest, Jongdae swings around to land a kick, bringing Jinki to the ground once again. Chanyeol goes for Minho who backs away, pressing Baekhyun to his chest in front of him. The ground shakes underneath their feet as the building, already unstable after the collapse of so many walls, is hit by another explosion downstairs. Minseok.

Chasing after Jinki, Jongdae follows him as he flees towards their stockpile of weapons on the other side of the room. He reaches it before Jongdae, flinging a sphere that explodes into a ring of flames. It spreads quickly through the floor, engulfing everything it meets with fire. Just barely ducking beneath it, Jongdae continues to pursue Jinki until Jinki is at the edge of building, where Jongdae had been caught before. His eyes are frenzied and he clutches at the piece of metal between his fingers with an urgent desperation.

"Don't come closer," Jinki warns. "I'll blow this whole city up, I swear."

Slowly putting his hands up, Jongdae stills, eyes fixed intently on the gadget in Jinki's hands. He doesn't know if Jinki is bluffing or not on whether the little piece of metal could unleash an explosion potent enough to destroy the city, but he doesn't want to take any chances.

"Now call your friend off of my friend."

When Jongdae doesn't move, Jinki bares his teeth with a growl. "Do it."
"Chanyeol, stop." Chanyeol ignores him and continues advancing on Minho and Baekhyun. Jinki's eyes are murderous and Jongdae swallows hard. "Chanyeol," he yells and this time Chanyeol falters, looking over at them. Minho takes the opportunity to limp over to Jinki, dragging Baekhyun over as he does so. The flames are drawing closer and in some parts of the room, the ceiling above is finally starting to crumble down in a storm of fire.

"Good," Jinki whispers. "Now I'm going to head to the center of the city to your superhero headquarters. Since the best of them are here right now, it should be no problem for me to blow it up and end this for once and for all. Minho has my permission to break your friend's neck if you try to go after me."

Realization hits him like a speeding train, and Jongdae watches in horror as Jinki dives into the river below, falling in a graceful swoop until he hits the water with a splash. The water carries him away, still holding the bomb. They hadn't captured the hostages to bargain for their own survival. Rather they had lured Jongdae and Minseok and Chanyeol and the entire police force here so that there would be no one able to protect MAMA headquarters from certain destruction. How could they have been so stupid?

Chanyeol rushes to the edge in horror, ready to jump in. But suddenly Baekhyun groans in pain as Minho tightens his hold around Baekhyun's neck, and Chanyeol stops.

"You heard him," Minho says, face dark. "Don't even think about it."

Jongdae looks desperately at Baekhyun who claws at his neck, trying futilely to escape. It's the same situation, the same set up, but the stakes are different. As angry as he was with Baekhyun, there's no way he can leave him now. As much as Jongdae hates it, there's a part that's still kind of love with Baekhyun and will always be. And as if hearing his thoughts, Baekhyun looks up at Jongdae, face scrunched, mouth opening and closing as if a soundless prayer.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Jongdae knows what he has to do this time.

Before Minho can stop him, he dives, the roar of the wind and water swirling around him and before he hits the water, he hears Baekhyun's scream slicing through the air above him. He's hit with an icy jolt of water, but it doesn't hurt him as much as the heartbreak that wrenches through his chest. Taking one last look behind him, he watches as the building begin to collapse in a fiery tempest of destruction. Chanyeol, Minseok, Baekhyun, all trapped within.

He wants to mourn, but the tug of the current sends him tumbling underwater and he has to redirect all his energy into his way clawing back up. There's no one to help him. He'd taken them all out: Junmyeon, Chanyeol, Minseok. And now he's on his own. Squinting through the spray of water, he can make out the figure of Jinki in front of him, swept out ahead, clutching onto a branch right next to the shoreline, gasping for breath. Numbly, he lets the current sweep him right towards Jinki, and right before he's about to be borne past the branch, he too grabs at the branch and pulls himself out, onto the shore.

Jinki looks up in shock, just before Jongdae reaches down and hauls him up to shore too. Before Jinki can speak, Jongdae presses a hand over Jinki's soaking mask and unleashes the last bit of electricity he has left. And as Jinki spasms before falling backwards into the river again, Jongdae picks up the bomb that had fallen out of Jinki's grasp and overloads that with current too - rendering it useless.
Then he falls to his knees, the grass soft under his hands and watches the factory across the river crash down.

---

Tears prick at his eyes, about to fall, and Jongdae closes them at last. But something in his chest makes him look up at the burning building one last time, as penance, a reminder. A small figure struggles its way out of the ruins, hauling another one behind it and Jongdae jumps up, overwhelmed by hope. He starts to spring towards the fire, stopping only when he's directly across from it.

It's Minseok and the last of the attackers he had been fighting. They collapse outside and are immediately swarmed by Kyungsoo and his men, the paramedics and the reporters. A spectacle to behold. If Minseok had made it then - Jongdae's breath catches as he stares into the unwavering blaze. He pours all of his power into willing it to happen, nails digging into his palm so hard they bleed.

And then, like a phoenix, Chanyeol rises from the ash, fire swirling around him. He shakes off the wood, the smoke, the doubts and stands up steadily to the sound of cheers from the gathered crowd. Defiant against the gods. He's helping Baekhyun to his feet. He's alive. Baekhyun's alive. And Jongdae feels the first drops of rain falling from the sky like absolution for a living martyr.

---

He finds Baekhyun sitting in an ambulance afterwards, clutching an ugly orange blanket. For a second, neither of them of speak, both looking at the devastating scene in front of them, as if by looking into the future, they could forget the past. Surrounded by the commotion of activity around them, they sit, caught in their own isolated bubble under the flashing ambulance light.

Finally, Baekhyun raises his head, eyes red and swollen from the smoke, and scooches over just enough room for Jongdae to sit next to him.

“How did you get out?” Jongdae asks. “I heard you scream.”

“Learned hapkido when I was younger,” Baekhyun answers with a harsh chuckle, turning his head to look out at the river. “You jumping into the river was the destraction I needed. I never thought I would use it now.” He turns again, this time to look at Jongade. “Did I tell you I was sorry?” he asks desolately.

Jongdae holds up his cellphone, now dead from jumping into the river, and nods. “I got your message,” he says.

“I really do like you,” Baekhyun admits suddenly, honesty raw and powerful. “I’m sorry for leaving. Sorry for not saying anything until now.”

Jongdae shrugs, tired of decisions and thinking. “I’m sorry you got dragged into all this. Sorry I didn’t choose you in the end.”

Offering Jongdae a pale smile, Baekhyun clings to his blanket a little tighter, wrapping it around himself. “Back in the building, I hoped you know? That against all odds, you would somehow choose me. I’m not good with these things. I can deal with anger and lust, but love? Not really. I left because I loved you. And then I hoped you would stay too because I loved you. So many people just leave me behind that it’s easier to leave them first. Make them hurt so they can’t do the same to me. That’s selfish of me, but I’m like that I guess. Greedy for the world.” The words are reminiscent of the first true conversation Jongdae held with Baekhyun and they cause a nostalgic pang to run through his heart. Baekhyun shakes his head. “Sorry I’m rambling.”

“I was mad at you,” Jongdae confesses. It was his turn now, he thinks, to bare everything. “I was mad at the world too. For so long, I wanted to do what was right, and then this came and I didn’t know what to do anymore. Hell, I still don’t know what to do. I almost let the bomb go because I was mad. Mad at you. Mad at everyone.” He shifts his weight onto his right arm and at that position, he’s close enough to lean into Baekhyun, inhale his scent. But he doesn’t. And Baekhyun doesn’t lean into him either. “Now what?” He asks.

The question hangs above the two of them, dense, and suffocating, before Baekhyun exhales slowly. “I’m going to go back to China. I don’t want to run anymore. Do you know why I left?”

Jongdae shakes his head.”

“I fucked one wrong person too many. The media was out for my blood. Rising actor engages in an affair with married television host. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it in Korea. So I left to lie low for a while.” He stops and turns to look Jongdae in the eye. “Does that change your opinion of me now? A home-wrecker? A cheating whore?”

Jongdae recoils at the acridity in Baekhyun’s voice, as self-deprecating as it is lacerating. It’s a declaration to the world and at the same time, it feels like a declaration to Baekhyun’s own self. He wants to say that no, it doesn’t change anything, but it does. He’s not that surprised though and he wonders how many other parts of Baekhyun he had chosen not to see. “That’s horrible,” he says, electing to be honest.

For some reason, Baekhyun looks back at him satisfied. “I’m going to go back to China, but I don’t want to live that way anymore. It’s tiring trying to climb out of the holes I dig myself. I’m going to talk to my manager. Try to do things right. It’s so easier that way. That’s what I saw here.”

“I’m glad,” Jongdae says, voice soft. “And us?”

Baekhyun falters and he looks at Jongdae, unable to find something to say. But Jongdae’s made up his mind. “I really like you. You like me too.” He takes a breath, forging on. “I’ll support whatever you do to get right and I’ll wait for you. I promise. As long as it takes until you figure yourself out.

Baekhyun jerks up in shock, staring at him with wide eyes. “Back in the building, when you left I felt like I was going to die,” he says slowly “I left you first, but even then, you leaving was inexcusable. I loved you and you left me.” Jongdae opens his mouth to protest, but Baekhyun presses a finger to his lips, silencing him. “It’s not your fault, but I can’t forget and I’m sorry for that. I close my eyes and I see you leaving, over and over again. It’ll take time, but I want to work this out. And if you’ll wait for me, I want to give this a try.”

Jongdae smiles. “It’s a deal then?”

Eyes crinkling, Baekhyun nods.

The sun is setting, sinking down into the river with a steady glow. And Jongdae, with the feeling of something as innate as faith itself rising in his chest, wants to capture the moment forever. Tomorrow, he’ll have to deal with the press, the police, the world, but for now, he looks at Baekhyun, suspended in the sun’s rays and flashes back to the day Baekhyun walked into the apartment, eighteen and ready to take on the world. This is it, he thinks.

The restart of a lifetime.

Epilogue:

“How’s it going?” Minseok asks over the crackle of the phone.

Jongdae laughs, pressing the phone closer to his ear to hear over the sound of the crowd. “Good, how’s retirement for you?”

“Don’t remind me,” Minseok groans. “My new partner is twenty one and I feel like a grandpa already. I miss you.”

“Not a chance,” Jongdae teases. “I’m out of that superhero life for good.” And he was. He’ had long realized that he couldn’t continue to act under the mask and cape knowing he had to make the decisions he did. He helps lives under a different persona now. “Besides, I gotta get back to my kids before September. First graders are brutal sometimes, you know?”

“Still making it okay on that teacher’s salary?”

Jongdae thinks of coming home to letters from Baekhyun. Signed from every corner of the world, with a heart always, by his name. The way Baekhyun sends him soufflé recipes sometimes. A different one every time. He wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world. “I’m doing just fine.” The crowd grows in noise again and Jongdae ignores Minseok’s grousing. “I gotta go,” he shouts. “It’s starting."

Jongdae jostles his way into the front of the crowd at Baekhyun’s solo concert and looks up. He hadn’t seen Baekhyun in months and when he watches him now, he’s not disappointed. Electrified, he looks on as Baekhyun sings into the microphone, healthier and happier than ever. The crowd roars, and swept along in their euphoric screams, Jongdae too yells his heart out.

And at the end, when Baekhyun has given his last mention, Jongdae makes his way backstage. He enters, taking in the heavy smell of hairspray, the heat radiating from the light studded mirror, Baekhyun looking up from where sits in the middle of the room, and smiles.

“You came,” Baekhyun breathes, on him in a flash and Jongdae laughs, feeling lighter than he has in years.

“I told you I would wait.”

---

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