Work Text:
Taeyong’s Saturday evening starts typically enough.
At 6 PM, he takes out the trash like he always does. After whipping up a dinner of instant ramen for himself, he works on his essays to get them out of the way as early as now. He knows once he gets too deep into his favorite TV series, no work of the strictest deadline can come between him and Netflix. With those done at the earliest of his convenience, he plans on binge-watching everything in his watch list until the sun comes up. Just like how he plans his any other listless Saturday to go. Stress-free. Roommate-free.
One will not expect—oh I don’t know—some wounded villain in black spandex and an unoriginal black mask to crash onto his veranda groaning out “Medic... I need a medic.”
Of course not, because that would be very inconvenient for someone like Taeyong who treasures his Saturday prime-time viewing.
But as human as he is despite his purportedly “ethereal good looks”, he has no strings to pull in the universal train ride through reality. He shouldn’t have assumed smooth sailing through the weekend just because he has minimal work to get done in those two days. As the universe’s butt of cruel jokes more often than not, he should’ve known an extra two hours of Sherlock on a Saturday night is too good to be true.
Taeyong is halfway through laying out the causes and effects of societal moral decay by generation shift when he hears a loud crash just outside on his balcony that sounds horribly like the flower pots Wonwoo from across the hall gave him last week.
He sighs before yelling out, “I thought I made it clear Saturdays should be my peaceful alone time!”
He’s answered by a series of groaning and sounds of more pots shattering. Taeyong ruffles his bubblegum hair and exhales so hard that a few wet drops fly off from his mouth onto his paper. He crumples it at once with distaste and without the slightest remorse for this wasted essay outlines, dumping it into the nearest waste bin before walking out of his room.
Well, so much for trying to be a role model for every student out there and getting his work done as early as today.
“Medic... Taeyong. I need medical attention,” says the pained voice behind the veranda door. “Quick, get me inside before Superdude spots me.”
A black figure sprawled out across the floor greets him as soon as he throws the door open.
“Oh, wow, now look what you’ve done to my plants. They were growing beautifully too.”
“Taeyong!”
He walks past the probably bleeding man and fusses over the brown clay wreck. “Perfectly ruined. That’s it, you’re gonna help me grow these orchids again. Ah, what would Wonwoo say?”
“Lee Taeyong!” He cuts him off sharply, wheezing. “I’ll help you grow a fucking tree out here. Just get me in!”
Something about the shift in his tone tells Taeyong it’s probably the best for the both of them to cut his frolicking right there. The last thing he needs right now is another super in his balcony and if he gets caught, he doesn’t feel like explaining to the authorities how he tolerated a villain into his very apartment, let alone tolerated living with him for almost two years now. It’s an awful lot of lying and Taeyong wants to get on his Netflix quick.
After a quick scan of the dark sky, Taeyong scoops him up, bridal style because he’s feeling daring, and lifts him off the ground. At least, he tries to. He loses his footing after the jerk, almost stumbling onto him if it hadn’t been for the other’s swift reflexes.
“Lee!” the villain groans, holding him up by his hand to keep him from tipping forward.
Taeyong laughs, abashed. “Can I just drag you by the feet?”
“Escape now, bad jokes later.” He wheezes. “Also, mind the arm and the head. Superdude got me good tonight. OW! And the leg.”
With a lot of heaving and gasping and joints cracking (wow, signs of aging), Taeyong manages to dump him onto the nearest couch. After that, he clears the mess out on the balcony to erase any evidence of a struggle. He says a soft and sad goodbye to his ruined orchids then makes sure to lock the door to the veranda. If Superdude happens to pass by and decides he will not be polite enough to knock tonight, at least Taeyong can have the slight struggle with the bolt as a heads-up. When you’re rooming with the city’s resident villain, you should always, always practice caution and safety measures at all times because if they slip and go down, chances are they'll probably drag you down with them. (That's what he hopes for, at least. But a bolted door holds no candle against Superdude.)
Taeyong forgets the very first time his arrangement starts veering to that direction rather than playing the “I’m innocent, he just dragged me into this and I’ll get killed if I don’t go along”. Perhaps it's because they’ve been doing this for two years now and a bit too late to plea innocence once he’s caught in the act.
Or maybe because he doesn’t care at all in the first place.
“I didn’t study medicine just to be your little nurse.” Taeyong returns from the kitchen with a wet towel and a bowl of cool water along with the first aid kit. “Also, why spandex? Aren’t you supposed to be a villain, Kim Doyoung?”
The man in black laughs at the name drop, clasping the mask off his face and tossing it somewhere. It dies down into a prolonged sound of agony in his throat. Taeyong saunters over and inspects the spoiled arm, wincing at the sight of the unnatural bend right up to the base of the shoulder.
“Spandex doesn’t pick sides, Taeyong. It’s universally super-friendly and not good-side exclusive.” Doyoung is sweating cold with his pupils shaking. Wheezing. Under the fresh indoor light, the ugly cut atop his upper lip is slowly mending itself. The swollen right eye is taking its time though, a nasty purple, throbbing almost to the rhythm of Taeyong’s pulse. He’s never seen Doyoung hurt this badly for a long time. Superdude must’ve snapped. “And stylish.”
“Ha. Spandex, stylish,” Taeyong says as he works on the gauze. “In what universe?”
“Marvel. Obviously. And DC.”
"Cliche." Taeyong rolls his eyes. More comic references he doesn't even understand. “How’s your shoulder?”
“Dislocated,” Doyoung screams out when Taeyong grabs it, biting onto his good hand. “You did that on purpose!”
“I was just checking!” He feels for it again, gentler this time. There. “Okay. This is gonna hurt. It’s dislocated but a little tug will help.”
“I need to see your license first.”
“Ha.” Taeyong tugs full force, slotting the joints back into place and Doyoung screams once again into his hand, louder but more muffled this time. “That should do it. Even without a license and top-notch expertise, your auto-heal will do its job so you’ll be good in a few hours.”
Doyoung grunts and deflates onto the couch, looking like a second away from passing out. Taeyong takes the lull to work on his broken arm and apply first aid to his bleeding head. That’s as far as Doyoung needs thankfully, since one of his superhuman abilities is healing himself under sufficient light, artificial or not. (It's a weird superpower, he knows, he had raised his brow once when Doyoung told him about it but apparently, the Universe doesn't care about what people might think)
As a next step, Taeyong drags a lamp and sets it by the couch, making sure it hits Doyoung just right on his gashes. He even goes as far as holding up a flashlight straight at his bruised eye. Just to be annoying.
The villain groans, making Taeyong laugh. “You’re a huge jerk.”
“I prefer you to call me ‘your savior’ great Shadow.” Taeyong taps the dark fiber. “You need to take this ridiculous suit off so the light gets to your wounds. Can you do it yourself or do you want me to—”
Without warning, Doyoung effortlessly rips the fiber off his shoulders so it tears down across his chest. It reveals an expanse of pale skin coated in a thin layer of sweat and dotted with a few purple bruises all over it. They don’t look too alarming but they’re enough to warrant another wince from Taeyong once they come into view.
Doyoung looks up at him with tired eyes. “The flashlight, please.”
Taeyong shines the light Doyoung’s shoulder needs, letting his eyes burn staring at the beam rather than burn staring at somewhere else.
“You know what’s ironic?” Taeyong’s mind scrambles around for something substantially significant to grip. Anything. Anything smart and sassy as close and true to his usual self not to look too affected by the sudden intimacy this situation has escalated to. His eyes try to catch the muscle work instead of the muscles itself, shifting, mending, putting itself back fervently in place under the intensity of the light. Like it craves for it.
Doyoung grunts.
“A villain alias Shadow because you operate in the dark yet you need light to restore yourself.”
“What’s ironic is you,” Doyoung counters through droopy eyes. “a medical student helping out a villain who actively seeks the destruction of mankind.”
Taeyong snorts. “You just have really bad publicity. And a lot of enemies up there. Feel better?”
Doyoung nods weakly. Color gradually returns to his previously alarming pale face so Taeyong takes he’s gonna make it through tonight just fine and tries not to worry too much. He also tries to ignore the heaving of Doyoung’s stark chest inches away from his face.
“Do you want me to carry you to your room or would you love to sleep on the couch?”
“To the room, thank you.”
Taeyong laughs. “You’re very polite in your most vulnerable state. Remind me to drop by Superdude’s mail and send him "Beat up Shadow for me" letters more often.”
Doyoung glares at him. “And they say I’m evil.”
When Taeyong first walked in on Doyoung silently healing himself in their shared bathroom, he thought he landed himself a delinquent as a roommate, given the show of bruises and the stream of blood trickling down his nose as he looked up. It isn’t too big a problem as long as he keeps his fights to himself and leaves Taeyong alone in his own devices, because hey. Who was he to judge right? If his roommate wishes to lead such a life, why not? Their relationship is limited only to equal allocation of lease and not matrimony. Nor adoption.
Back then, Taeyong wasn’t aware of the self-magical restorative process Doyoung was going through under the dim bathroom fluorescent nor of the fact that he’s the very rookie villain in town that everyone talks about every morning. Though he remembered wondering how the hell did the gashes fade so quickly and how there wasn’t so much as one scar from all the injuries Doyoung brandished a few nights before. It took Taeyong a good few months before he puts two on two together and he almost considers bailing for his dear life.
Almost.
If not for Doyoung’s excellent cooking abilities, neat personality, and everything about him that’s not exactly villainy.
Taeyong even cracked a laugh when Doyoung attempted to break everything down for him from start to finish the morning after he barged into their unit, battered and soaked wet, and then passed out mightily by Taeyong’s feet. He ended up choking on his laughter when Doyoung lifts the maple table with one hand. He’s sure it couldn’t be steroids or some other type of drugs because that would have to mean he’s also on it to be seeing stuff like that. No. Doyoung was Shadow, the scoundrel of the dark and the bane of Superdude’s existence all in his daylight, college student glory-lifting off maple tables to prove a point.
Taeyong was positive that should've been his cue to freak out like any other normal person. Probably scream his head off. Call the government to rat Doyoung out. But he didn't. Safe to say it was a pretty smooth fess up. Taeyong was honestly just worried about Doyoung breaking stuff when he heaved the table off the floor, more than he's bothered about Doyoung being Shadow. He found himself coming to terms with this new information fairly quickly, proceeding to the more important part of this arrangement and pestering Doyoung left and right questions about how his villain-ness works and if it's true that he's just harboring a hopeless crush on Superdude that's why he's after him.
("No, Taeyong I don't have a crush on Superdude. You're insulting me."
"That's exactly what someone who has a crush on a handsome superhero would say.")
Taeyong had nagging suspicions his quick adaptation is due to his BuzzFeed alignment that states he’s lawful neutral. Or perhaps it's due to his flimsy moral compass that doesn't confine entirely to one side thanks to his outlook in life that nothing's ever black and white. Besides, who was he to interfere with his roommate’s lifestyle? Who cares if he was a bad guy? As long as he doesn’t kill him off in his sleep, they’d be just fine in the same space together with him doing what villains do in their spare time and Taeyong doing his stuff. Though, he made sure to sneak that into the ground rules they’ve set for themselves after the consensus of living on together. Doyoung trusts him though. After all, Taeyong did stay up all night tending to his wounds the first night he came home badly scathed and barely moving.
“Feeling a lot better now?” Taeyong asks him as he steps into the kitchen, yawning. He grabs the remote on the counter, flipping through the channels for anything remotely interesting. He isn’t even fazed at the sight of Doyoung up and showered, running the kitchen like the usual. It’s how their mornings typically start, even after a night of injuries and brief light pollution.
Doyoung spares him a glance before facing the sizzling pan. “Yeah. Thanks to my powers.”
Taeyong scoffs.
It’s fleeting, but it’s enough to catch a glimpse at Doyoung’s face. His black hair is parted to the side, silky and smooth like the usual. The skin around his eyes wields no trace of last night’s struggle and his shoulder looks perfectly normal popping a spatula in hand as expertly as he usually does. Taeyong takes the cherry-pink popping in his cheeks as a medical student win despite knowing the fact that it’s all thanks to Doyoung’s self-restorative abilities. His first-aid mattered too, you know.
“You want a shoulder massage?”
Doyoung peeks over his shoulder. “Do my ears deceive me? Or did you just offer me a shoulder massage?"
“I mean, you’re cooking breakfast. For two.” Taeyong shrugs, settling down onto a stool. “You still didn’t have to. So to make up...”
“It’s efficient and it’s not like you refuse them,” Doyoung says and swings the pan off the stove, dumping its contents onto the plates. “And about that offer, I don’t want another injury today please.”
“ Hey. I give mean massages!”
“I’m sure.” Doyoung nods. “But I’m also running late. So, pass.”
Taeyong’s scowl turns into beams the moment Doyoung pushes his plate to him. He shoves a spoonful in, savoring the first taste with his eyes closed. This is why Taeyong had second thoughts bailing out. He doubts if he’ll ever find someone as handy as Doyoung in the kitchen to be his new roommate. And if there is someone out there, it’ll probably be too late since this guy has already set the standards too high for him.
The TV screen blares fresh news of yesterday's incidents, making Taeyong turn and squint at it in mild confusion. “Shadow. You burned a warehouse last night?”
“A tobacco warehouse." Doyoung's nose twitches. Twitches. "A lot of smoke. Thinking about it alone suffocates me."
“Why?”
"Because there was a lot of smoke but that's something you'd expect from—"
"No, I mean, why that warehouse?"
“Why?" Doyoung makes another noncommittal shrug as if they’re discussing why he prefers cornflakes above everything else in the breakfast menu. “Just because.”
Taeyong bites onto his spoon as he watches the younger dig in. He almost forgets Doyoung never allows him to question his ventures in the community, which typically involve arson on warehouses, buildings, public property, selective government offices, the usual villain stuff. But among all those incidents that Doyoung stirred there’s one outstanding similarity among them.
Doyoung has never really killed anyone.
He’s caused community disruptions, a handful of traffic jams, and all that but never once Taeyong had heard of anyone losing their life over a destruction Doyoung had caused. Wounded at most, but never any death. If it was intentional or arranged, he didn’t know. He can only guess.
His guesses are usually the better, looking at Doyoung’s frown as he distastefully shoves a burnt part of his omelet aside and his constant, silent longing for a meerkat pet (Taeyong knows about that all too well) and thinking in those two years he's known him for, there's just no way he's that kind of person... at least, he hopes so.
But if he was... what are you gonna do, Taeyong?
“Any plans tonight?” Taeyong asks through his teeth biting onto his spoon. “Terrorizing zoos. Sabotaging Target storerooms? Lying on IKEA beds?”
Doyoung lifts his eyes, lips partly curling up. “No, those are next week’s agenda. Why?”
“Great! We’re shopping for pots and plants!” Taeyong chirps. “Since you destroyed mine.”
“Do I have to? I can give you the money—”
“I’m gonna need someone superhuman to lift those pots for me all the way our floor since…” Taeyong shakes his arms in front of him to prove his point. “they’re not exactly what you call adequate for the job.”
“You poor weak mortal.”
Taeyong stabs his omelet. “But I’m smart enough to take advantage of your existence around me.”
“Good point.” Doyoung slides him his glass of milk. “I’m off by 6 pm. Meet you at the gates by 6:30 then.”
Taeyong takes the glass and grins. “See you then.”
Most of the time, Taeyong never really thought of Doyoung as a villain within the premises of their shared unit and the years they’ve spent together in it. His mind mostly refers to him as simple as “my roommate who has a weird hobby” because Doyoung never really strikes him as a proper villain.
For one, he doesn’t even have an evil lair.
Doyoung laughed at him when he voiced that out once during breakfast since that's when most of their conversations take place.
“Why are you laughing at me, every villain must have an evil lair,” he continued indignantly.
Doyoung looked at him with a delicate gaze, as if he’s looking at a child. “Not everyone can afford an evil lair, Mr. Lee Taeyong. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m also a college student like you. I’m broke.”
Taeyong wasn’t thinking of the circumstances when he said the following words, chewing a bite of sandwich Doyoung whipped up for both of them. “Get a part-time then? Lease one? Pay it off in installments?”
Doyoung had a hard time recovering from that one. His laughter must’ve reached out the hallways.
“What?” Taeyong demands, lips involuntarily jutting out.
“You’re adorable.” Doyoung had said, shaking his head at his sandwich with little tears lining the sides of his eyes. “So cute.”
It was a good thing his eyes were on his food, or else it would’ve been very awkward if he caught the pink dusting across Taeyong’s face right after what he said.
"But seriously, I don't think you're a real villain. Even your laugh is pitiful.”
Doyoung stopped laughing, clearly offended. "What’s wrong with my laugh?”
“It’s not evil enough.”
The younger’s eyes twinkled as he shook his head. “Ugh, you have industrialized standards for your villains.”
Taeyong held up the third finger on his hand. “Plus, you don’t have an evil sidekick. It's a must-have, isn't it?”
Doyoung rolled his eyes. "It’s called a henchman.”
"Hmm, I like sidekick better.”
Doyoung shrugged. He’s never the one who’ll put on fights over the smallest of things. He’s brooding most of the time like he’s saving energy for something worth spending the energy for. Like robbing banks. And causing traffic jams. Outside his ventures as the city’s troublemaker, he does the bare minimum. Well, except for chores because he never half-asses those.
Whenever Taeyong talks about something, he shows he’s paying attention through eye contact, which is something Taeyong initially found hard to get used to. Doyoung stares like he’s searching for something in his eyes, shifting from one eye to another over some time. It’s kind of distracting when Taeyong hasn’t gotten used to it. He always tends to stop mid-sentence to clear his throat or to try to get ahold of his thoughts that got thrown off all over the place because of the blatant and bold staring. He had to admit, sometimes it still throws him off but not so much anymore. Taeyong usually manages through this by staring back or staring at Doyoung’s eyebrows instead. He has nice eyebrows. Sleek-looking. Perhaps something you can expect from a villain. Sleek and smooth.
“Hey,” Taeyong said then when the staring got too intense for him and looking away would make things more awkward for him. “Aren’t I already your sidekick?”
“You? Sidekick?”
“Yeah. I tend to your injuries all the time.”
Doyoung’s forehead creased the tiniest bit. “It’s me who’s doing the healing.”
Taeyong scoffed. “It’s me that’s doing the hauling you in and giving you the light you need. I’m sort of a sidekick.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Doyoung commented, looking a bit thoughtful for five seconds before starting again. “Do you want to be?”
Does he want to be? Is that even a question? Taeyong grinned. “What choice do I have oh great Shadow?”
“You’re enjoying this far too much. Doesn’t it bother you at all?”
Taeyong shrugged the question off. “You landed with a pretty awesome roommate.”
“Yeah.” Doyoung nodded, eyes still piercing. “Maybe."
The truth is, up until today, Taeyong still thinks it was he who landed with a pretty awesome roommate and not the other way around because who doesn’t want to room with a villain like Doyoung, typical black spandex that made him look like a poor Black Panther rip-off, and all? It's like living his childhood dream.
But even with all that pizzazz, Taeyong couldn't exactly tell how villainous Doyoung's character is because to him, it seems like he's making quite an effort to keep these two sides of his life separated. A model college student and roommate by day, a villain by night. Sometimes villain slightly before sunset. Sometimes during peak hours. He never mentions and lets Taeyong question his villainous escapades and elaborate evil plans to dominate the world. At the same time Taeyong never really sees him out there in his villain getup except when he's crash-landing on their veranda battered blue on occasion. And whenever they live-broadcast something going down between Superdude and him somewhere downtown.
The coffee shop where Taeyong frequents is usually where he watches the brawl live in cleverly captured camera angles that are almost as if its a set-up. (At times, he wonders maybe it all is. If the bruises Doyoung bears after aren't painfully real enough, he would've thought it is.) He finds himself wincing as the people around him cheer for Superdude, butt-kicking Shadow from building to building. He finds himself looking away whenever Superdude lands a punch, biting the rim of the coffee cup that it leaves deep teeth dents and fists curling involuntarily on themselves.
Doyoung never lets Taeyong question his choices, why he's still out there going against someone who fed him dirt countless times before on national TV, no less. But that's the beauty of villains, Taeyong guesses. They never know when to give up. They have zero concepts of giving up. And though that's almost alluring in some other circumstances, looking at Doyoung's injuries after the wrangle that everyone treats as an everyday entertainment, Taeyong thinks it's just plain stupidity.
"I'm surprised you're out and about on a Sunday afternoon. Or are you possessed by some evil, wander-lusting spirit," Youngho says as Taeyong walks up to the counter his hand deep into his wallet.
"Don't overreact." Taeyong huffs.
"Oh. I mean," He clears his throat, "Welcome sir, what would you like for today?"
"The usual."
"The usual, right." Youngho throws his head back and yells. "Hey what's our Taeyongie's usual?" He nods back at him. "Yeah, sorry, I bet your usual barista is Jaehyun. I'm usually just mopping the floor but I'm covering for him now. Hey, Yuta! Taeyong's usual!"
"You can just ask me I'm right here!" Taeyong snickers when Youngho shrugs, batting his eyes as he awaits the order. He recites it and Youngho repeats it with childish hype before scrambling around to fill the order. "So where's Jaehyun?"
"Beats me. That guy just slipped out and next thing I know I'm head barista of the day," Youngho answers, hands moving in an expert flurry all over the counter. "But it's not like I can't. It's just, he can't keep slipping out like he hasn't a job you know? Mop duty is pretty important, too, I can't sacrifice such a vital job just to be here."
"I'll make sure to talk to him don't worry." Kun saunters over with his usual dainty smile, nodding at Taeyong's direction. "Yong's usual is a vanilla latte."
"Got it." Youngho holds out his coffee and grins. "Hey there you go, good sir, enjoy your coffee."
"Thanks."
"Taeyongie comes to buy coffee! Oh yikes, Shadow's downtown again. Wreaking havoc," Yuta informs as he walks in, eyes on the TV monitor plastered on the wall across the room.
Taeyong almost spits out the first sip of his coffee as he twirls, squinting at the screen with the coldest frown he can muster on short notice. There it is, the frame cuts off to two familiar distant figures of black, green, and red (Superdude's spandex colors) clashing above the metropolitan scene. At ground level, the camera thrashes around to keep track of the clash above while the reporter broadcasts the fight blow-by-blow. Everyone at the café instantly begins slapping bucks on tables like they're placing bets on their favorite soccer teams.
Taeyong grips his cup hard when Shadow takes on laser blasts from Superdude which knocks him out of the air and into another skyscraper's glass walls in ear-splitting shatters. The crowd erupts into cheering and Taeyong fights back the urge to punch someone. Preferably Superdude. Preferably everyone who cheered just now.
“Ouch,” Youngho comments, cringing. “That’s gotta hurt.”
"Whoa, hey, someone looks tense."
Taeyong snaps out of it and loosens his grip around his coffee cup, blinking at the dent he made.
"Is something wrong?" Kun asks.
"Taeyong looks mad for some reason," Yuta notes. Then it dawns on him. "Oh. Oh. I get it. He was rooting for Shadow. How could we forget?"
Youngho forms an "O" with his mouth which melts into a shit-eating grin. "It's our local Shadow stan!"
Kun peers at him curiously. Taeyong shakes his head at him, Don't mind them, they're idiots.
"How could we possibly forget our Taeyong has a thing for underdogs? Is that a medical thing? What do you call that? Nurse complex?" Yuta prods with an innocent bat of his eyes. Youngho snickers and Kun's curiosity grows visibly with every glance.
"Shut up." Taeyong tries to keep his tone lighthearted and the clenching in his chest away from his voice. It works, at least on Johnny and Kun as they continue drifting around for chores to fill. Nurse complex. Doyoung. Is that what this is? It feels far too deep to be just that. He wonders where he is and if he's okay. He hopes he isn't limping in some gutter somewhere, too hurt to move...
Yuta takes over the counter, taking advantage of the lack of customers to pester his friend. "Your taste is none of my business but I'm just saying." Yuta looks at him straight on. "Kim Doyoung."
Taeyong's eye twitches. "Kim Doyoung."
"Yes. Kim Doyoung."
"You're crushing on my roommate?"
Yuta shrugs. "He's pretty cute. Invite him over some time. Pretend to grab some coffee and drag him along. You never let me meet your roommate and we've been friends since forever."
"I've met him!" Youngho interjects from the back, still doing that very important mopping duty. "Great guy. Brooding. Very smart."
Yuta gives Taeyong the stink-eye. “Youngho met him. And you didn’t bother to drag me along.”
"It wasn’t planned, okay? Plus I already know and see him around campus so it’s no big deal,” Youngho says from the back. “Don’t hold it against Tae.”
“Here’s an idea. How about you pretend to have your coffee delivered at your place and I just happened to make the delivery and you invite me in to chill? How’s that sound?”
“Kun, hear that! He’s hitting on customers! That’s gotta be a violation right!”
Kun chuckles when Yuta spins around to glare daggers at Youngho. Before Taeyong can say anything, his phone goes off with a message notification. “Uh, sorry guys. I have to go.”
“Ow, so soon?”
“Hey! Taeyong!” Yuta calls after him. “Consider it, okay!”
Taeyong dashes out of the café after Doyoung texts him to meet him at the gates. He finds him there, casually leaning against the wall in the solitude of a typical Sunday afternoon as though the brawl didn’t happen at all.
“Are you okay?” is Taeyong’s first question as he catches his breath from sprinting to the gates.
Doyoung raises a sleek eyebrow. “I’m fine. Nothing a little sunlight can’t heal.”
That’s true. His restorative abilities work twice as well in daylight. He must’ve soaked in the sun for a few minutes. If minutes were all it took then he came out of that one without so much damage. He looks fine. But Taeyong still gives him a worried once-over to make sure, also partly out of habit. Doyoung is still in the clothes he wore that morning. Black slacks and a black button-up shirt, for some reason. He looks like he’s off to some big-time conference. He also doesn’t seem to be limping. Thank goodness for that.
"Are you checking me out?”
“Checking you out for injuries.” Taeyong rolls his eyes when Doyoung’s grin widens. “Shut up.”
“So you saw.”
“I saw. Are you sure you’re okay?”
Doyoung cocks his head to the side. “Do you want me to lift you to find out?”
“A yes or no would've sufficed."
Doyoung laughs.
“Now let’s go get my plants.”
Taeyong worries. But at the same time, he believes in Doyoung. He may not dare say it out loud but Yuta’s right. Taeyong is rooting for Shadow. For Doyoung.
“Is that why you always wear black? Because of the spandex underneath?”
“What are you talking about?” Doyoung scoffs. “Black is my color.”
Doyoung doesn’t have to know about this but Taeyong keeps a record of the things that nullify Doyoung’s reputation as the resident notorious Shadow for fun. As his unspoken sidekick, it is his job to keep track of Doyoung’s naughty and nice act list for Christmas. Not really, but Taeyong has a creative imagination and it has become a habit to jot these down for future reference in case he might need to whip out pieces of evidence on why Doyoung/Shadow is not your typical Satan-level baddie and that he deserved a lighter sentence. It’s a long shot, Taeyong knows but he takes pleasure in snapping candid photos of him doing simple acts of kindness nobody would expect Shadow to do.
Taeyong’s favorite one might "The Great Cat Rescue", which is by far the most cliché, most straight-out-of-fiction kind of situation they had the pleasure of getting caught in. It doesn’t make it less interesting though, flashing back to Doyoung in his pastel violet sweatshirt, to the bags of groceries in one hand and the other one pointing up the branches of a tree.
“There’s a cat up there.”
Taeyong followed his finger and squinted up the tree. “Huh. It is a cat.”
“What’s he doing up there?”
“Who knows.” Taeyong takes a step forward. “Hello kitty, kitty—“
The cat shrieked menacingly, clawing a paw at him as a warning. Taeyong gulped and stepped back. “Okay. He doesn’t like me.”
“I think it’s stuck.” Doyoung helpfully supplied.
“Uh-huh.” Taeyong eyes the purring cat, wildly swishing its tail with its eyes glaring at him. Truth be told, it kind of hurts Taeyong’s feelings. He has a soft spot for all kinds of animals, and it's hurting him knowing this cat doesn’t appear to like him as much as he does. “For some reason, cats don’t like me very much. But I like cats too. Maybe it doesn’t want to go down.”
“I’ve been staring long enough to sense that it would if it could.” Doyoung hummed. “Maybe it’s just very wary of you and the height.”
“ Hey. Not helping with my feelings.”
The cat seemed to pick up the conversation and started to meow loud, paws sliding off the side of the branch it’s on with its nails scraping the bark to stop its fall. It meowed again, more aggravated and a tad bit louder, tail slithering behind it for balance.
“Here. Take this for me.”
Before Taeyong can finish, Doyoung shoved the bag to his chest followed by a gush of wind shooting by his side propelling up behind Doyoung. Taeyong’s bangs fluttered around before he swiped it to the side and looked up the branch. He almost rolled his eyes when he finds Doyoung sitting atop the branch, cooing at the agitated cat with an outstretched hand. The cat surprisingly found Doyoung a lot more likable than Taeyong, humming deep and satisfied into his hand.
The dark-haired looked down at him, a tiny smirk playing at his lips. The cat was already in his arms, purring shamelessly loud as a lazy finger stroked down its spine.
“Oh, wow look at that.”
Doyoung slid off the branch but didn’t quite fall. He made his descent steady and slow, rubbing the cat behind its ears that it closed its eyes as it leaned to his touch. As silently and as quickly as possible, Taeyong whipped his phone out of his pocket and took a quick snap of Doyoung while he’s still engrossed with the cat.
Taeyong scoffed, tucking his phone as naturally as possible. “That is so unfair.”
At the sound of Taeyong’s voice, the cat’s eyes fluttered open and with one last snarl, it jumped out of Doyoung’s arms and scrambled to the nearest bush.
“That cat is so reckless for trusting you. Doesn’t it know you’re a famous villain?”
Doyoung laughed, completely oblivious of what went on. “They love that about us.”
“Uh-huh. That’s very cute of you. Helping the cat,” Taeyong said with a satisfied smirk on his lips. “But I thought you’re allergic.”
“Cats are brethren.” Doyoung sniffed. Then sneezed. He glared at Taeyong who was already laughing at his face. “Shut up.”
On better days, Taeyong likes to believe he’s some sort of Super magnet because he’s special in a way and not because he’s the universe’s favorite butt of its jokes. On days like this, however, where he’s received enough beating through all his classes in a day to last a year, he doesn’t know what to think because his brain just straight out shuts down under all the stress.
It’s a sort of momentary brain malfunction accompanied by dropping of the jaw and bulging of the eyes, which is theatrical but not what you call unrealistic because anyone, anyone, will certainly react the same way after seeing their seatmate turn out to be your local superhero.
Taeyong’s mind lags and he gulps just in time before a string of drool drops from his mouth due to the epic jaw-slacking as he stares at Jung Jaehyun halfway through ripping his button-up shirt. The unmistakably familiar shade of green and red peeks through the gap, shooting down every single doubt inside Taeyong’s head.
“Uh...” Jaehyun sputters, eyes shaking. “I-It’s not what you think.”
“I think it’s exactly what I think.” Taeyong’s mind recovers just enough to form fragments of coherent thoughts. His first instinct is to flee like a criminal. He might as well be one but he recovers enough sense not to bolt out like the guilty citizen he is. “Uhhh, I think I’ll go now.” He does a shaky u-turn and makes a beeline out the washroom for boys, closing the door as softly as he can and leans on it with an inaudible thud.
“Why.” Taeyong almost sobs into his hands.“Why me?”
“Do they know about this? Kun and the others?” Taeyong tries to keep his voice up and leveled to not give away the fact that he’s been through this kind of revelation before. With this guy’s nemesis, no less. It still hasn’t quite sunk in yet. It’s like watching two worlds turn and twist, bleeding through each other once again, as it felt for the first time with Doyoung. Two worlds merge when they shouldn’t. Suddenly, Jaehyun sitting there seems to be a big deal. Like a secret waiting to be spilled to the world.
“HEY! SUPERDUDE IS HERE! I CAN PROVE IT! TEAR HIS SHIRT OFF!”
Two secrets now. Taeyong’s head feels dangerously light. He reaches for his juice, letting it slide down his throat and trying not to splash it across his face. Why me, why me, why me.
Suddenly, it makes sense. Jaehyun slipping out of his shifts at the same time there’s trouble anywhere within the municipality. Jaehyun disappearing in the middle of classes. Jaehyun wearing button-up shirts most of the time.
He’s like an actual Clark Kent but in college. Same energy.
“No, they don’t.” Panic subdues over on Jaehyun’s end, it seems like it. He’s a lot more relaxed now, conversing as if they’re not talking about a national secret.
“How many know?”
“Only you.”
Well, that’s perfect. “Aren’t you worried I’ll sing?” I can tell Doyoung.
“I know you wouldn’t.” Jaehyun answers, sounding extremely confident about it.
Actually… “How do you know?”
“For one, it’s not like I’m the bad guy. Why should I be worried?” Jaehyun says. Which is a very good point. Dammit. These kinds of questions should’ve been for Doyoung. “But please don’t.”
“I know how it works. So sure.”
Jaehyun heaves a deep breath then smiles once more, wider this time with his deep dimple showing. “Thanks.”
They’re not close or anything but they’ve shared a reasonable amount of classes in the last two semesters to belong to the same circle of friends. That’s also partly because Jaehyun works part-time here at the café Kun owns and where Taeyong’s high school friends Yuta and Youngho work. The guy had served him most of his coffees from here and had memorized his usual, crafting his coffee just the way he likes it with a cute dimpled smile.
They’ve also shared a sufficient amount of conversations for Taeyong to know he’s exactly the superhero type of guy. He has a strong sense of justice and guts to do something about it. He’s also built for it, chest and shoulders more pronounced now that Taeyong is paying attention. A bit bigger in proportions compared to Doyoung’s lean and delicate physique. The notion of Jaehyun being Superdude makes sense but at the same time, doesn’t. How small could Taeyong’s world be, having both Supers inside his radius? Luck? Bad luck? Was it a curse? It is a curse. What’s next? That Deadpool guy who's annoyingly everywhere?
“I’m so sorry you had to see that. It must be a lot for you to take in.”
Ha. “At least you’re not Shadow, right?”
Jaehyun genuinely laughs. Taeyong fakes it. Ahaha. What a joke.
“You’re right. That would be a pretty bad experience.”
Uhhh.
“Sorry, I have to get back to my shift, so, see you later?”
“Yeah sure. Go ahead.”
Jaehyun stops halfway up his seat and sinks back to his chair. “Actually. My shift’s gonna end soon. I have half an hour to go. Would you like to go ride with me?”
Taeyong’s eyes bulge. “Hmm?”
“Ride with me to your apartment. On my back. To see what it’s like.” Jaehyun clears his throat. “ Fly.”
That makes even lesser sense. Without much thinking, Taeyong says, “I easily get seasick though.”
Jaehyun laughs. “We’ll take it slow, don’t worry.”
Okay, now that sounds like a euphemism for something. Taeyong clears his throat, belatedly realizing he just used the word “seasick” about flying. He’s such a fucking dork when he doesn’t try. (What’s the word though? Airsick?)
Taeyong’s not daft. He knows he’s being asked out when he hears it.
“How about another day? I want to go home as early as possible. I have tons to work on.”
And a blooming migraine from the whiplash to defeat with sleep and lots of Advil.
If Jaehyun is disappointed, he doesn’t show it. His eyes remain bright and appreciative in a way you can tell without the words. He nods enthusiastically, another smile hinting it’s comeback across his lips. “ Another day. It’ll be great. You won’t regret it.”
“Great.” Taeyong forces a smile. “Check you later.”
Jaehyun is attractive. Any other normal person would’ve jumped right at the opportunity such as Jaehyun served on a golden plate before them, even outside knowing the fact that he’s Superdude. But Taeyong knows, and it just doesn’t feel quite right because his enemy's spandex lies around his apartment unit with much disregard.
Taeyong reaches home to find Doyoung sprawled across the sofa (not in his spandex though, thank goodness), looking up at him when he enters the front door. He freezes in the doorway as though he’s walking in naked and bare.
“Hey.”
I KNOW WHO IS SUPERDUDE.
“Hey.” Taeyong kicks off his shoes, his mind screaming.
“Hope you haven’t had to eat dinner yet. I accidentally cooked a lot of pasta.”
“How do you accidentally cook a lot of pasta?” Taeyong jokes with a shaky laugh, shuffling towards the kitchen. Doyoung hands him his cutlery with a quirk of his lips and his plate wafting of the delicious aroma.
The conversation that follows leaves hardly any room for Taeyong’s tongue to slip into revealing the previous information he had acquired that afternoon. Mainly because Doyoung happens to be in a sprightly mood and his unusually wide and surprisingly infectious smiles are enough to keep Taeyong’s mind occupied with the immediate atmosphere. This time, Doyoung jokes around and Taeyong is more than happy to ride the happy wave. His guts burn heavy with content and his chest swells a wee bigger every time he hears Doyoung laugh. After lingering a few more minutes after they’ve cleared their plates to talk some more, Taeyong volunteers to do the dishes, and Doyoung sticks around next to him with a small glass of wine to keep him company.
“Have you ever flown before?” Doyoung asks, swirling the wine in the glass.
“Like, on a plane?”
“Mmm.” Doyoung takes a sip of the wine.
“Twice. When Yuta brought us to Japan for New Year. Why?”
“Hmm. Do you want to,” Doyoung clears his throat. “fly, not on a plane, but my back?”
Taeyong almost drops the glass he’s lathering. “What?”
Doyoung shrugs. “I feel like I should give the sidekick rides. Not those kind. I mean, you know what I mean right? Don’t give me that look. Hey. Hey. Say something.”
The pink-haired blinks. “Uhh. I know what you mean.”
“Good.” The black-haired’s eyes pop expectantly. “And…?”
“Yeah. Yeah sure. But is it okay?”
“I’ll figure something out. But okay.” Doyoung does a finger gun at him. It’s the first time he sees him show anything close to being nervous. It’s kind of refreshing outside his usual demeanor; sure, confident, calculating. Sleek.
As he goes to bed that night, he realizes he didn’t even bother bringing up the fact that he gets airsick easily when Doyoung asked him.
Doyoung comes crashing again onto their veranda a few nights after, with bruises and wounds worse the previous Saturday.
“You got to stop this!” Taeyong bursts out, his face reddening from both anger and artificial warmth radiating off the close to a dozen lamps looming over Doyoung’s decrepit frame on the mattress. He’s brandishing the same color of purple, black and red with the addition of a broken jaw and more black-eyes. And every single bruise causes a sickening wrench against Taeyong’s ribs. “This villain thing is stupid! You’re hurt!”
Doyoung mumbles something inaudible, resembling a pained whine. Taeyong shushes him harshly. “I don’t want to hear about what you have to say! I got to get you to the hospital.”
Doyoung whines again, urgently this time with his gaze sharpening in a warning.
“What?!”
“Y-You’re…” Doyoung forces between a seemingly broken jaw. “…enough. N-No, h-hospital.”
Taeyong feels his knees buckle and they finally cave in, plopping down the carpeted floor next to Doyoung. He whispers shakily, “You’re hurt.”
A frail hand inch slowly closer to him and Taeyong meets it halfway, caging it in his own hands tightly. “You are a pitiful villain.”
Doyoung chuckles before doing so become too painful for him that he passes out.
The thing about superhero comics and movies is that they don’t take that much thought showing their audience what happens to the villains after the big fight. When the superhero goes home with minimal bruises flaunted as scars of heroism, the villains go home defeated not only with their crushed rationale but with crippling physical damage. It’s not the same for every single villain out there. No. But when you’re on the side of the villain in this story like Taeyong is, you'll find yourself wishing just once, just this once, for the villain to win. Just for that damage on his body and ego to at least mean something.
“What do you mean they pay you to be a villain?” Taeyong gapes. “What kind of government pays someone to destroy its city?”
Doyoung fully recovers two days after that, with enough strength to walk around on his own. Taeyong doesn’t say this out loud but he follows him out the veranda in case Doyoung’s legs give out or something like that. What he doesn’t expect are the words to come out of Doyoung’s mouth, “I am paid to be a villain. By the government.”
“A desperate government hungry for the support of its citizens," Doyoung answers grimly, lips pursed into a thin line. "They have to gain people’s trust somehow. You know how it is. Uprisings here and there. Economy dropping at an alarming rate. They’re desperate. Ever since they figured out what to do with people like me, they began staging these. One plays the hero. One plays the evil. Evil never wins of course. They need people to think the heroes are protecting them somehow. They need to be kept in line. Brawls help keep people’s attention elsewhere. At the immediate danger. That’s us. That’s me. The common enemy.” Doyoung takes a whiff of air. “One gets used to it.”
Taeyong scowls. “That’s not fair.”
Doyoung laughs at him, like an adult laughing at a kid for saying something painfully naive and amusing. “Of course it’s not fair. But what choice do I have?” Doyoung continues. “Mom made a mistake at checking me to a hospital because of my aberrant healing abilities. She freaked out, I couldn’t blame her. I got taken away. Briefed. Experimented for awhile. When I came back, she’s already gone. I’m alone. I had nowhere else to go. I stayed with my relatives for a while but it doesn’t feel the same.”
Taeyong winces. Doyoung notices and bumps his shoulder against his. Taeyong feels his cheeks burn.
“They decided I should play the evil because of my outstanding abilities in the dark. They think it fits the evil role better. It’s “aesthetic”, they think. Plus I was perfect for it because of my healing abilities. Rinse, repeat, you know? They keep me alive and will probably fund me through the rest of my life if I keep this up. This is how I’ve been living so when I said being a villain is my job, it’s kind of accurate.” Doyoung glances at him and chuckles. “What with that face?”
Taeyong doesn’t even realize his face is scrunched up this much. “I-I had no idea. I’m sorry.”
“For what? Shit happens. It’s another thing constant in this wretched world. Plus,” Doyoung grins. “it’s also kind of fun. Beating Superdude up.”
“So that’s why nobody dies from anything.”
“I was the one making sure of that. They think it’s more “dramatic” to have human casualties.” Doyoung shakes his head. “Heartless fiends.”
Taeyong sneers. “ Who the fuck are these guys?”
“Big ones you don’t wish to cross. That’s okay. I’m also pretty sure Superdude won’t let the worse happen.”
It makes things a bit better over at Doyoung’s side. The truth of this entire arrangement invalidates his so-called evil intents because everything is stipulated. Every brawl is meant to leave him beat up for the people’s morale and entertainment. Jaehyun—Superdude wins by default every time and it’ll never change no matter how skilled Shadow gets. Thinking about it makes Taeyong grit his teeth.
Just because someone can heal themselves at a much faster rate, even as a superpower, doesn’t mean they can take advantage of that for a stupid cause. You can't just do that to anybody.
“Is Superdude in on this too? Is he getting paid too?”
“I think so. But we don't know each other personally. That’s not allowed to happen. The ringmaster can’t risk an uprising with two of his lions so he keeps them in separate cages. Plus the tension will feel more real if we don’t have any connection at all.”
Jaehyun. Superdude. In a way it’s faking heroism, isn’t it? He’s not fighting to save anyone. He’s part of the script with a role to play. But just like Doyoung, he may not have much choice.
Taeyong wonders how would Doyoung and Jaehyun react if they know they’re within each other’s circle this whole time, around each other’s presence when they’re enemies in their alter egos.
“You look like you know something,” Doyoung comments, turning to look at him. “You figured out who Superdude is?”
Smart guy. “I’m not telling you who.”
“Yeah, I figured.”
“It’s nothing personal. I just want it to be fair. I can’t have either of you suffer the repercussion the moment you know each other’s identity because I can’t hold my tongue .”
“That’s very sweet of you. Looking out after your villain.”
Taeyong scoffs. “I have to. After all, what would Shadow do without me?”
Doyoung smiles, all soft and adorable gums. “Nothing much.”
“Yeah.” The pink-haired grinned back, infected. “I figured.”
Taeyong never thought he’d ever blame his craving for coffee for something very unfortunate to befall onto him because he’s always fond of thinking how much the universe hates him. Well, this time around, he can’t even pin it onto the galactic puppet master.
“Jaehyun’s out again, as usual, Yongie, but no worries! I know how to get the job done!” Youngho announces when he walks in, throat parched, and screaming for the familiar slime of the gingerbread.
Halfway through a reply, the café chimes ring as the doors to it swing open. Youngho’s usual greeting gets caught in his throat as his eyes widen in shock seeing heavy green boots stroll up to the counter in confident steps.
Superdude leans onto the counter, head cocked slightly to Taeyong’s direction, who in turn, gaped at him. The green mask cuts off halfway down his face and covers half of it, flaunting his dimpled smile and reddish lips raised at one side.
Taeyong has not expected this. At all.
“S-Superdude!” Youngho squeaks.
Yuta shrieks when he walks in, almost dropping the stack of china in his arms. Superdude does a simple salute to both of them before turning to the still-gaping Youngho.
“Hi, I’d like to have what this gentleman’s having. Put it on my tab.” He says smoothly.
“Yes, yes sir! Right away sir!”
Jaehyun—Superdude turns to him again. “So, up for a ride this afternoon?”
He’d have to say no. There’s an endless list to get done waiting for him at home, along with stacks of reports and research he needed to submit in a few days. Taeyong just honestly wanted to have his daily dose of caffeine to kickstart his day in the middle of it. He contemplates it for a while, staring blatantly at Youngho who seems very interested in his private conversation with Superdude and poorly concealing his eavesdropping with off-tune whistling. Taeyong did say he’ll do it another day with him. After that, he can just pull out something like he’s airsick and can’t stomach the thinness of the upper atmosphere anymore or he could pull something like he obtained diarrhea mid-air or something. He’d just have to make it through an hour or so with Superdude, wave at a few bystanders without risking his identity from that distance, and maybe watch him shoot down a few mosquitoes for him just to let him flaunt his superpowers. He can do that. That’s the plan. Just to get this over with.
It’s perfect. What can go wrong?
“Okay. Let’s go.”
Taeyong fails to consider getting spotted by Shadow, on a rooftop right before the sun is about to set.
“Well, well, well what a romantic setup.”
Superdude steps up, bracing an arm in front of Taeyong to protect him. “What are you doing here?”
Doyoung—Shadow laughs. “Is this your Gwen Stacy, Dude? Is he your Spiderman pretty boy?”
Pretty boy.
“Shadow don’t you ever have a day off?” From the way Superdude asks him, Taeyong’s pretty sure they’ve done a lot of talking before. There’s still a hint of bite in his words but a much more lax manner. The same goes for Shadow. He told Taeyong there wasn’t an order to make an appearance, for a brawl to happen tonight.
“I saw you across the sky tonight and thought, ‘Huh. Kidnapping is my job’. Had to check it out.” Taeyong can hear the smile in his voice. “Did Dude kidnap you?”
“I don’t see how this is any of your business. But if it’s a fight you’re looking for…” Superdude bares his hands, sharp silver metal slinking out from his knuckles.
“You might want to rethink that.” Shadow points at the sinking sun across the horizon, bathed in fading hues of pink with the blue teetering the lines. “I rise with the night.”
“That didn’t stop me from kicking your ass before. It sure won’t stop me now.”
“Hey, pretty boy,” Shadow calls, ignoring Dude. Doyoung under a mask.
“Y-Yeah?”
“You know Gwen Stacy right?” He asks. “You know what happens to her after hanging out with Spiderman so much?”
Superdude lunges for his neck. After that, it’s all a blur of black and red too fast for Taeyong’s human eyes to catch up and his brain to comprehend. Metal crashing against metal, cape swooping around his field of vision in a flurry of power and speed. He takes a step back away in panic, eyes dancing around wildly for a way off the rooftop. Intending to spin around and leave, Taeyong almost yells when his feet no longer touch the floor and his body lurches forward with a strong pair of arms wrapped around his chest. Wind screams in his ears and someone else’s… oh. The screaming comes from him.
“No, shh, stop thrashing around it’s me. Shadow.” Doyoung’s voice warm against his ear, over the wind. “Hold on to me tight. We’re getting out of here.”
There’s not much to do with the entirety of your body weight hanging off a man’s arms. Taeyong just can’t stop sweating, holding onto Doyoung’s hands as tight as he can as they shoot across the sky, higher and higher, and then glide down lower breaking multiple laws of physics. It’s impossible to have a ride this smooth.
But Doyoung makes it possible, nails scraping against Taeyong’s chest in a calm and collected way as he whispers serene assurances into his ear. “That’s okay. Hey. Look. We’re flying and not falling. I think we lost Superdude. Are—are you closing your eyes?”
Taeyong eyes are screwed shut. “Didn’t I forget to inform you, I am a little scared of heights?”
Doyoung laughs, mixing well with the scream of the winds. “I’m sorry you forgot to inform me.”
“Let's just go down okay! I’d be more… happy on the ground—oh shit why are we stopping?”
“Trust me. Open your eyes.”
Taeyong peeks through a small slit of an eye, slowly letting it flutter open. There still isn’t any solid ground beneath his feet yet but they’re hovering over another rooftop with Doyoung’s arms still around Taeyong’s waist. The sight that waves at him from the horizon is breathtaking.
It’s a sunset unlike any other. Fires of pastel pink and lighter shade of violet pepper across the vast expanse of the horizon, with the last of the sunset’s spikes piercing through the clouds. Taeyong holds his breath and savors it, saving every shade of it into his memory.
“It’s so… pretty.”
Doyoung sets them down gently, letting Taeyong’s heels step first before his entire weight. Even after they’ve landed, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the peeking sunset, heaving a sigh of awe as the last of it dives down and the twinkling blue settles over it like a blanket in its place.
“Where is he?” Taeyong asks after that, looking up and around.
“Who?” Doyoung asks innocently.
Taeyong rolls his eyes. “Batman. Who else?”
“Eh. He won't bother us anymore." Doyoung shrugs. "It's not our schedule to make a scene.”
“You just stole me from Superdude.” Taeyong croaks a few moments after, his legs dangling off the edge of the rooftop with Doyoung by his side.
“I think it’s called, “Getting you back”. He’s the one stealing my sidekick.”
Taeyong couldn't fight off the urge to grin so he looks down, hoping at least this will conceal how much this statement affects him. He's pretty sure he's catching the same shade of pink now as the skies from before. "Didn’t know you are grossly possessive.”
“I’m also pretty sure you don’t like Gwen Stacy.” Doyoung shrugs. “I peg you to be more of like Harley. The crazier queen to the crazy king.”
“I think it’s time to stop with these superhero references I don’t understand.” Taeyong grins, leaning in and tapping his lips through the mask. “I prefer to be good old Taeyong to the good old Shadow Doyoung. Now, will you please lose this stupid spandex so I can kiss you properly—”
Doyoung doesn't need to be told. Before he finishes his sentence, Doyoung is already ripping his mask off and leaning down to crash their lips together.
Finally.
Shadow died on the next downtown brawl.
It’s bigger than any of the previous fights, a quieter part of the city had to be evacuated to prevent further casualties caused by Shadow and Superdude. It was a mess by the time the authorities had arrived at the scene; roofs were ripped off from houses, debris and glass cluttered the streets, and some rows of establishments almost completely engulfed by angry flames. Strangely enough, no residents were seen running about and it was as if they were long gone before any of the havoc has been wreaked across the district. The media had made sure to cover every cranny of the perimeter with cameras to give the entire city extremely detailed and graphic updates on the ongoing battle overhead between Shadow and Superdude. Some had even dubbed it as "The Ultimate Showdown", which couldn't get any cheesier nor cornier. Now that Taeyong knew exactly how it works, it sends him fresh waves of disgust to the people behind the system. It’s funny how far these guys can go to fool the public, to keep it wrapped around their fingertips. Manipulating everyone to this extent. Sacrificing an entire district just to put up these little stages.
He’s at the café when that happened. When Superdude supposedly “ends Shadow” with an impressive light beam he had conjured all Super Saiyan-like. The crowd cheered when Shadow disintegrated before their very eyes in unmistakable camera angles and the dust of his remains appeared to have scattered to the wind.
Taeyong's entire world screeched into a halt. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. For a moment, he froze and everything else stopped with him.
He burst into his empty and thrashed apartment, gaping at the collections of books all strewn on the floor with the vases and the china and the things... his things. His. Not Doyoung's. There wasn't any insight. He made a mad dash to Doyoung’s room and saw it as completely wrecked as everywhere else, his bed empty like it had never been slept on, closet empty with no trace of his existence.
He sank to the floor and choked out a sob.
Shadow died that night.
“Wait. That’s it? What happened to Shadow? To Yong?” Jeno asks, wide-eyed. Under the sole light of the bedside lamp, they glitter in excitement. The same goes for the face perched right in between his neck and shoulders, eyes droopy with sleep.
“I don’t know. It doesn’t say. It ends there.” Taeyong replies.
“But it can’t end like that! Shadow must’ve been okay!”
Donghyuck snorts from his side, hugging his teddy bear into his arms. “But villains don’t have happy endings. Right, Dad?”
Taeyong smiles. “Would you guys want to hear a different ending?”
“Yes please!” Jeno wriggles in his place under the cozy duvet.
Donghyuck straightens up. “They found Shadow’s body?”
Taeyong ruffles his son’s hair. “Shadow dies.”
Jeno erupts into whines and Donghyuck furrows his brows.
“But Do lives.”
Both faces lit up at the same time.
“He let the villain Shadow die and lived for Yong instead because…” A smile plays on his lips as he draws smooth circles at both his sons’ hands. “He loves him more than he loves to terrorize the city. And he wants to be with him for life. The end.”
Jeno grins, looking a lot more satisfied and slumping back onto his pillow. “Now, that's better.”
His other little one tries to pull the best, unimpressed face but there's no denying the brightening of his expression. “Dad made it up. There’s not many robots and bad guys.” Donghyuck yawns, sinking next to Jeno with his eyes half-closed. “Not like Iron Man…”
Jeno pinches his brother's cheek softly. “We’re talking about the boring life of a college villain after all. So…”
Taeyong pulls the sheets over his sons’ bodies and bends down to kiss them both on their foreheads. “Good night boys.”
“I believe dad…” Jeno whispers through half-lidded eyes to no one in particular. Probably Donghyuck, but the kid is already snoring next to him, breathing even.
Taeyong smiles. “I love you."
“Love you, dad…”
Donghyuck exclaims suddenly, “Love you, dad!”
“Love you too Donghyuckie.”
“What’s the story tonight?” a voice asks when Taeyong steps out, carefully shutting the door behind him.
Taeyong grins at his husband over at the kitchen counter hunched over paperwork. “The villain and his sidekick."
Doyoung looks up from the clutter of papers and frowns at him. “Again? You’re gonna give them nightmares.”
The older saunters over, sliding his arms down his husband’s chest from the back and dips down to plant a kiss on the cranny his neck. Doyoung hums in satisfaction, leaning a little bit more to him.
“I don’t think so. I gave them the real ending."
The last of Shadow made it to the local paper's front page the day after and the days that followed that. It was a whole week of torture for Taeyong, where he was forced to believe everything that happened on that screen that night happened for real. Irreversible. Final. Doyoung is dead. Doyoung is dead. He just couldn't. Jaehyun's nowhere as well, God knows what happened to him. To them. He tried asking Kun and the others in the cafe but they were as clueless as he was. If they noticed anything off about Taeyong, they didn't voice it out so he didn't have to explain. He cried a lot, though. On his own. In his bed. On the couch. He'd always made sure to catch every sunset, which was torturing him, even more, seeing the familiar horizon and the same shades of pink and violet but without the presence of the man who has given this view more beauty and a whole new meaning.
Until one day, he heard another crash on his balcony and saw Doyoung beaming at him.
“What the fuck did you mean you faked your death?! ” Taeyong had screamed at his face then as any other sane person would react.
It turned out both Shadow and Superdude had come together and arranged the entire fight without the consent of the organization. They devised the plan to boycott, put up a very convincing stage of Shadow's great demise, and then poof. That way they'll be forced to take both Shadow and Superdude off this stage forever. By faking Shadow's death and fulfilling Superdude's mission to the city. It's not like the higher-ups can do anything about what had already been done before the public's eye. There's only so many strings they can pull behind the scenes. It had a horrible backlash on Doyoung's part though. He was no longer under the wing of that said organization and was instead on probation along with Superdude, who had been given another specific set of instructions somewhere else.
When asked how Jaehyun and he hit it off, Doyoung laughed.
"Jaehyun is a good man," Doyoung commented. "He knew how to honor to fact that you're already my sidekick. I told him to find himself another."
To make the long story short, Doyoung was free. Free of his supposedly-villainous shackles. But not entirely free, since he's still superhuman, meaning his abilities and extraordinary traits were still something the government kept tabs on and was set to exploit. The org still pulls him out from time to time and sends him on covert missions but other than that, he got to live his life the way he wanted. With the people he needed.
Doyoung looks at him the same way he looked at him that night at the rooftop; his eyes full of stars and bursting with so much affection. It does things to Taeyong even until now. It still stirs a lot inside of him, seeps through his bones, and swells his chest with so many emotions all at once. There were no words, but his eyes are enough to say everything he wanted to hear from him.
There’s no ounce of regret, no ounce of longing for the life he left behind for Taeyong. He can tell that much. Doyoung looks at him like he holds the galaxy in his eyes. Like he holds his entire life in his hands.
Turns out Taeyong stuck around for a whole different reason and not because his Buzzfeed alignment says he’s lawful neutral.
Taeyong dips down and Doyoung meets him halfway through.
He stuck around because of him.
(“Do superhero stories always end with the main characters kissing?”
“You’re asking a villain. How am I supposed to know?”
"For the record, you're the hero in my eyes."
"No. Taeyong. I was a villain. Respect that."
"A cute villain."
"No. Feel my power."
"Cute power."
"Ugh.")