Chapter Text
Jimin’s earliest memory is the day that humans started raining out of the sky. He is three at the time, his mother carrying him in her arms, as they both try to dodge the debris. People, huge chunks of rubble, and full-sized cars smash against the pavement, while the woman makes a desperate attempt to outrun them.
A minivan lands right in front of the two, causing Mrs. Park to fall backward, dropping her precious son. Jimin tumbles out of her embrace, rolling on the ground. Disoriented, he wobbles onto his feet, falling twice. He’s not quite sure what’s happening, not fully. He only knows that the person he loves most in the world, his mom, is scared and in danger.
“Jimin,” she screams, straining to her feet, limping towards his direction.
A huge piece of rock sails through the air, threatening to crush them both. Jimin, standing at an unimpressive two and a half feet, so small and fragile, balls up his fist. With a clumsy swing, he manages to hit the thing, turning it into dust with a tremendous boom.
A car comes flying in next, holding three passengers. But Jimin doesn’t know that. He stops the thing with his bare arms, tossing it aside such that it smashes into a building. The boy turns to his mother finally, having saved her from the destruction, but also now responsible for three deaths.
The woman flinches away, body shaking. All Jimin wants is for her to pick him up and hold him just as she had a few moments ago. But she runs from him, terrified. Jimin loves this woman the most in the world, but she will never love him again.
It takes a great many more years before Jimin realizes why. He and the person who’d caused the destruction were the same.
They were both monsters.
Jimin's halfway out of his apartment, late for his night class that starting across campus. He has an apple in his mouth, which he dares to call dinner. He fumbles for a second with his keys, locks the door, and jets down the stairs. He'd overslept, and now, his grade is in jeopardy.
His average last semester was a B-minus. Jimin studies hard but he simply can't keep up, and now with his downright deplorable sleeping schedule, he might lose his scholarship. And he really can't afford that. He has no other way to pay for college. No family, no friends. Jimin was surrendered to an orphanage when he was a child. He has no one supporting him. He can't balance a job, studies, and—
Well, there was a reason his mother gave him up, left him at a doorstep in his raincoat, with nothing but his beaten up teddy bear, who'd only one eye. The only good thing she did for him was not report him. And he, confused as he was, understood never to use his powers again. Since then, he’s been in hiding. But keeping it in check drains away all his mental focus. The point is, Jimin can't balance a job, studies, and his... problem.
Jimin is a Super, a human with the strength and speed of ten people. He's a freak, an abnormality in a world that shuns him. And all he has is hinging on if he meets the requirements for this scholarship next semester.
He dashes across the grass, going as fast as he can without alerting anyone. He can't go his top speed, he knows that. He can't be found out. Life for Supers is horrendous, or so he's told. They have no freedom, and if he's discovered, they'll ship him off somewhere for tests. Jimin spent so many years in that hell of an orphanage, he'd rather die than be a prisoner again. But he's getting stronger. He can feel it. It's harder and harder to control lately. Sometimes he's afraid to sleep because if he has a nightmare, he can knock down a whole wall.
The last time, they'd blamed it on poor infrastructure, on a brand new dorm building. That'd been such a close call. Luckily, no one had been hurt. Jimin can't make any more mistakes. He can't let his grade drop. He can't—
A truck screeching on the road interrupts his train of thought.
The thing's lost control, one of its tires popped out from underneath it. Jimin's never seen a crash in real life before. It's nothing like in the movies. There's a compact in front of it, a faded red Toyota, that tries to swerve out of the way. But there's no room to go unless it’s willing to plow down a few pedestrians. The vehicles slam into one another, the momentum of the truck causing it to flip over and partially crush the car underneath it. There's so much screaming, thick grey smoke billowing from the mangled crash site. The ground's wet with rain and gasoline.
Body buzzing like it's on fire, Jimin pulls out his cell and quickly dials 119, reporting the emergency.
People are gathering, bystanders who watch in horror, snap pictures, hand over their mouths. Jimin takes a chance, circling around the car.
The truck driver flops out, groaning and cursing but alive. What about the people in the Toyota?
Jimin covers his nose and peeks in. Partially obscured by the wreckage, he can see a pregnant woman trapped in there, trying to rip her seat belt off, forehead painted in blood.
“I've called the police!” Jimin shouts. “They're coming!“
“Please, hurry,” she coughs. “I can't breath! My-My leg's stuck! Please!“
Sirens sound in the distant, red and blue lights flicker on the face of somber buildings.
“Just stay calm,” Jimin keeps talking to her. “Don't move! The trucks right on top of you!”
The smell of gas is suffocating.
“I-I think my leg's broken,” she cries back. “M-My baby.”
The car frame whines, remaining two windows blowing out.
There's no time, even as the police arrive. How are they gonna get her out?
“Step back, sir,” a cop shouts at him.
And Jimin makes perhaps the worst the decision of his life. He has to save this woman, even if he reveals what he is in the process.
“I said, step the fuck back,” the man repeats, a hand at Jimin's chest.
Jimin pushes him away, not meaning to do it so hard, but the cop flies back eight feet, sliding on the asphalt.
Then Jimin, heart pounding in his ears, braces himself, two hands under the seam of the truck. With all his might, he pushes upward, splitting the skin on his knuckles. The metal warps from the force. The truck uprights with a thunderous shriek, freeing the car. Jimin, panting from the effort, wretches open the entire door, throwing it aside. The woman's pale with fright, pointing at her leg, which is crushed between the dash and the seat. Jimin pushes it away like it's tinfoil. And then, as she's reaching for him, he backs away, afraid to touch her. He's so strong, what if he accidentally kills her, takes her hand and crushes it. He steps back, gasping, clothes soaked through with sweat and rainwater.
The paramedics swarm the scene, helping her out of the car.
Then all eyes are on him, people pointing and taking videos of him in hushed whispers. It makes Jimin want to vomit all his guts out
“Kid,” an officer calls him to attention. “You're okay, just stay calm. Stay right there-“
Jimin's blood feels like fire. He throws his hood over his pink hair, hoping to god no one will remember his face. Then he makes a run for it.
“I need back up,” the cop screams into his radio transmitter. “We got a kid Super, uh level one, fleeing the scene. Call in the Captain.”
Jimin bolts, the street cracking beneath him as he jumps up sixty feet in the air, landing on the adjacent building. He hops from roof to roof, wind screaming in his ears, heart ready to burst from his chest. Helicopters fly overhead with beams combing the ground. They're looking for him. He needs to find somewhere to hide, somewhere crowded, nooks and crannies that the light won't pass through. Jimin dives into a narrow alleyway, ducking behind a garbage can as a searchlight passes. He thinks he's home free but then he sees someone in the distance, silhouetted in the moonlight. Jimin turns tail and runs the opposite way, overturning a garbage can.
“Wait, kid!” the man shouts after him.
Jimin jumps up the fire escape, scaling a building in half a second. He vaults over two rooftops, landing hard on his hands, scraping up the skin more. He thinks he’s made some distance but when he turns back, he sees the man right behind him, having done same spectacular gymnastics.
It's another Super. Jimin's never met one before.
“Go away,” Jimin screams.
The man keeps his distance. “It's okay, kid. You're not in trouble. I'm Captain Min Yoongi. I'm taking you somewhere safe.”
The guy doesn't look anything like a police officer, leather bomber jacket, covered in tats, with a head of mint green hair.
“I saved that woman,” Jimin spits. “I didn't do anything wrong. I'm not going anywhere with you.”
He turns to escape, but Yoongi screams after him.
“But you could have just as easily killed her,” Yoongi shouts against the wailing wind. “You and I both know it. You're dangerous.”
Tears sting in Jimin's eyes. He dashes for it, leaping from building to building. “No.”
Yoongi's hot on his heels. “Stop! Freeze! I promise you; it's a safe place for you. Stop running! Wait!“
Jimin keeps going. He'll run forever if he has to, but then-
His whole body becomes rigid, and he slams into the ground hard. He can't move a muscle, except his eyes which scan rapidly around.
“I-I'm sorry,” Yoongi says from behind him, voice getting louder. “I-I hate using my power, but I can't let you go.”
His power? He's doing this?
Jimin struggles against it, but it's like there are steel bands around his arms and legs, unyielding. He moves involuntarily, body forced to the ground.
Yoongi watches him from three feet away. “Listen, the facility isn't what you think it is. It's a safe place, I promise. You can't keep going on like this. What if you kill someone?”
Yoongi's vibrating, eyes pleading. But he just doesn’t trust the Captain, not one bit.
“L-Let me go,” Jimin hisses.
The Captain nods. “I will. I'm going to. Just don't run, yea?”
“I don't really have a choice, do I?” Jimin spits, realizing this man can just catch him again.
Yoongi glances downward in shame. “I'm sorry, but you don't.”
Jimin nods ever so slightly, and the Captain drops his hands. Immediately, the boy's limbs come loose, and he shuffles over onto his butt, eyes trained on the man above him.
Yoongi takes a seat too, folding his knees to his chin. He’s visibly shaken from having to use his powers on Jimin, like it’s destroyed him too. He pulls a cigarette from a silver case, lights it, and takes a long drag. Then as if remembering he’s on duty, he kills it on the cement floor.
“I'm so sorry,” he says again, hands trembling. “I hate using my power.”
The man's eyes are glassy, pastel hair windswept, features delicate. Now that Jimin can see him properly, Yoongi’s the most beautiful man he's ever laid eyes on.
“What was that?” Jimin asks, shuddering. “How come you have more powers?”
Yoongi sighs, resting his eyes against the back of his hand. “You don't know much about Supers, do ya, kid?”
Jimin shakes his head, a chill running through his body, his hoodie too thin and still damp even though the drizzling has stopped. “No. You're the first one I've met.”
“What's your name?” Yoongi asks.
Jimin bites his lower lip.
“We’re gonna be seeing a lot of each other, so you should tell me,” Yoongi says
“It's Park Jimin.”
Jimin makes a mental note, wherever they're going, the Captain must live there too. And this for some reason, puts him at ease and on edge at the same time.
“Jimin, all Supers have strength and stamina,” Yoongi explains. “We call that level one.”
Jimin nods along. It’s a little elitist to number people but whatever.
“I'm a level five,” Yoongi continues. “The highest risk Supers.”
“Highest risk?” Jimin parrots
Yoongi takes a deep breath, tucking deeper into himself. “O-Officially the power is called Puppeteering.”
“Ok?”
“I control living creatures,” Yoongi says. “Make them do what I want. It's the worst power in the world.”
“I see,” Jimin says, fingers and nose burning from the cold.
“I hate my power,” the Captain continues. “But the facility helped me learn to control it, so I don't use it unintentionally. They can help you too. And once you learn, you can live a civilian life again.”
Jimin’s not sure why but he thinks Yoongi’s not telling him everything. However, he’s willing to scope it on his own and find some evidence before he makes his final judgment. “Ok. I'll come with you.”
Yoongi shrugs off his bomber jacket, draping it over Jimin's shoulders. It's dangerously warm and smells like tobacco and vanilla. Jimin hesitates, watching the Captain warily, afraid that he might accidentally hurt him. But then he realizes, Yoongi is a Super too, there's no way that Jimin could accidentally harm him at all. It comes as such a relief that he sags into the Captain's embrace. The boy covers his face in his own hands, soft sobs escaping into the night.
“Shhh,” Yoongi hums. “It's okay.”
“I tried so hard,” Jimin cries.
The Captain cradles him like a child, rocking him gently. “I know. I know you did.”
“I tried so hard not to hurt anyone, never again,” Jimin says urgently. “But it was hard being alone.”
“You're gonna be ok. I promise,” Yoongi hums, picking him up bridal style.
Jimin curls into the Captain's chest, hiding his face. Yoongi leaps down into the street with Jimin in tow, where two squad cars are waiting.
“You got the kid, Capt?” someone asks.
“Obviously. Get the door for me, Hobi,” Yoongi answers.
Yoongi slides Jimin into the backseat. Then the Captain climbs in with him, playing with his hair, still cuddling him, as Hobi drives through the streets.
Jimin is so tired, so fucking tired, down to his very bones. He could fall asleep like this, in the stranger's embrace. But Jimin's hands are pretty fucked up from all the hard landings, and it keeps him walking the line between dream and wake.
Yoongi stares down at them. “I can fix those for you.”
He takes Jimin's tiny hands into his, rubbing at the raw skin. And like magic, the spits repair themselves, and the ache goes away.
“How?” Jimin whispers.
“It's part of my power, the only good part,” Yoongi hums.
Jimin tucks his hands into his hoodie. For the first time in a long time, he feels safe to fall asleep. There's no way he can hurt Yoongi, and he's contented to let the man watch over him.
Rain patters gently against the windows and Jimin's eyes slide shut.
Jimin wakes up in a bed, comfortable and wrapped up. There's something soft in his arms, and it takes a moment for him to realize that it's a teddy bear. The heck?
“Jimin” someone whispers, “You awake?”
It's Yoongi in the dark, on some sort of couch, face illuminated by his cellphone.
Jimin tosses the gray bear aside. “I'm up.”
Yoongi flips on the light, revealing a cozy bedroom, colored in warm reds and browns. “Sorry. You wouldn't let go of me until I gave you Mr. Bear.”
Jimin flushes. “Sorry. I-I must have been out of it.”
“It's okay,” Yoongi says, tilting his head ever so slightly. “Hey, you hungry?”
Jimin is starving. He hasn't eaten anything substantial since breakfast, and that too had been meager due to his tight budget.
“A little,” Jimin says, cheeks warm.
Yoongi smiles. “I'll take you down to the kitchens. If you're up for it.”
“Sure,” Jimin answers.
Yoongi helps him up with a strong arm. Jimin has to fight the urge to cling onto him, lingering for a few seconds before he steps back. “S-Sorry. I-I dunno why. I just feel safe with you.”
Yoongi's pale skin turns bright pink. “It's the Florence Nightingale effect.”
“Florence Nightingale?” Jimin repeats. The name sounds familiar. He might have heard it in his psychology class.
Yoongi nods. “There was this nurse back in the 1860's who'd taken care of soldiers during the Crimean War. Each one fell in love with her.”
“But it wasn't real,” Jimin says, glad that his college degree isn't going entirely to waste.
Yoongi nods. “They just associated her with feelings of safety and care, so they fell for her. But it wore off once they were out. It'll pass, Jimin. I saved you and you feel indebted to me, but it'll wear off.”
Jimin nods, heart hammering, dying of secondhand embarrassment, as Yoongi leads him down the hallway. At first appearing like a house, the facility quickly devolves into something of a mansion, long halls, and winding staircases, keeping the same warm decorum. Jimin doesn't like it. He feels lost already.
“But, if you want, you can hold my hand,” Yoongi offers. “Just for now.”
The Captain doesn't meet his eyes, looking forward with purpose, his arm sticking out. Normally, Jimin wouldn't. But he's been through a lot in the last few hours and so he takes the Captain's hand and instantly a sense of safety washes over him.
“Thanks,” Jimin whispers.
“D-Don't mention it,” Yoongi says, guiding Jimin along until they reach a large mess hall, empty save for a few night owls, one that Jimin recognizes.
“Hey, Captain. How's the new kid?” the redhead calls.
“Jimin,” Yoongi hums. “This is Hoseok. You remember him from the car?”
Jimin nods, letting go of Yoongi's hand and offering it to Hoseok. “It's nice to meet you. I'm Park Jimin, didn't get a chance to introduce myself before.”
Hoseok grins, shaking Jimin's hand enthusiastically. “You ran pretty fast kid, I could barely follow you from the street.”
Jimin flushes. “Sorry. I-I heard some pretty bad things about this place. I was scared.”
“It's not so terrible, once you get used to it,” Hoseok replies, his smile strangely tight. “They try their best to make it feel like a home. And we all pitch in.”
“On making it a home?” Jimin asks, raising an eyebrow.
Hoseok nods but once. “Right. Exactly. Like a home. You can call me, hyung, if you want. You need anything, just ask.”
Jimin nods as Yoongi tugs him away. Hoseok immediately catches the action, face splitting into a wide grin. “You're like an old guard dog, Captain. I'm only being friendly.”
Yoongi frowns at him.
“Hoseok's a level 5 like me. He has the power of persuasion. Be careful, Jimin,” Yoongi grumbles. “He doesn't even know when he's doing it.”
Hoseok gasps, pressing a hand to his chest. “It's against the rules to use your powers on other Supers without a sanction. I would never.“
“It's not like anyone can tell,” Yoongi whispers with narrow eyes.
Hoseok laughs, eyes glittering in a way that's abhorrently charming. He turns to Jimin again. “You know they used to rank my power as a level 3, but that was before I came along.”
Jimin secretly agrees with the rank bump. The power to persuade would be incredibly useful.
“So what's your secondary, Jimin?” Hoseok asks, resting his chin in his palm.
Jimin shakes his head. “I don't have one.”
Hoseok nods, not at all surprised. “Ah, that's cool, about forty percent of Supers are level ones. You'll be out in no time, get back to your life.”
Yoongi tugs Jimin again, pulling him away. “You said you were hungry?”
Jimin nods, fascinated by the conversation, but ultimately too starved to focus on it any more. “See you around, hyung.”
Hoseok smiles back at him. “Don't be a stranger!“
Before he can answer that he won't, Yoongi urgently guides Jimin along until they reach a serving window. There's someone ahead of them, who looks familiar yet again. Jimin's seen this kid around campus before. And it makes Jimin think, are Supers just out in the open, living their lives? And no one knows who they are? Is that all there is to it?
Yoongi steps up to the window next, ordering enough food for three. “Is there anything else you'd want, Jimin?”
Jimin's got a sweet tooth, craving something sugary. “Do they have cakes or cookies.”
Yoongi coughs, saying something like, 'cute' under his breath. Then he turns to the server at the window. “Can I get two strawberry shortcake slices too?”
“Sure thing, honey,” she replies.
Jimin pulls out a wallet from his back pocket. “Let's split it. How much do I owe you?”
Yoongi shakes his head, grabbing the tray laden with food. “It's free. You don't have to pay anything.”
“No, I-I insist,” Jimin pressed, face flushed, heart pounding.
Yoongi chuckles, amused by Jimin's persistence. “No, I mean everything in the facility is free, room and board, and food. They also set you up with a 250 credit weekly allowance. That's why most Supers chose to live here instead of on the outside.”
“Oh,” Jimin hums. “That's-“
Yoongi leads them to a table. “It's Capitalism at its finest. Tell me it's not at least tempting.”
Jimin nods. He's already considering it. It'd really help him out, and he'd no longer have to share a dorm with easily injured humans. “I guess.”
“Well,” Yoongi nods. “Eat.”
Jimin scans the various choices and picks up a piece of fried chicken, nervously nibbling at it. “Thanks.”
Yoongi leans back, stretching his out almost like a cat would, “It's not my dime.”
“R-right.”
“So,” Yoongi leans forward. “Tell me about you, you got a girlfriend?”
Jimin shakes his head. “Nope, I-“
Yoongi's lip quirks upward. “I guessed not. New Supers are usually afraid of hurting non-supers.”
Jimin nods. “Well yea, it's hard to get close to someone when you're scared you're gonna break their arm. But I-I meant that I'm gay.”
Yoongi's voice comes out an octave higher. “You don't say.”
Jimin flushes. “That's not a problem, is it?”
Yoongi shakes his head, face crimson. “Not at all. Of course, not.”
Jimin laughs. “I thought maybe my pink hair gave it away.”
Yoongi nods. “It surprisingly doesn't.”
The atmosphere is thick with awkward tension. Jimin doesn't really know what to say next. The conversation lulls as the two of them work on their food.
Yoongi slacks a little when he speaks again. “So in the morning, you'll be typed. And then there'll be three weeks of training.”
Jimin's been trying to keep his power in check for the last eighteen years; is it really just gonna be three weeks of training? Sounds too good to be true. “That's all, are you sure?”
Yoongi nods. “That's how long it takes to train level ones. Then you'll be home free.”
Jimin nods, glad that his semester will be salvageable. He can still make it to finals if he studies on his own. Is there any way they can have his textbooks delivered here?
“Oh and,” Yoongi adds, gaze flickering downward. “Y-You can call me hyung too if you want.”
Jimin smiles. “Sure, hyung.”
Yoongi smiles at him, gummy and sweet. Jimin's heart skips a beat, but he ignores it. It's this whole 'Florence Nightingale' thing. He won't fall for it. In the morning, Jimin goes to the testing room. It's a large clear box, where two people observe him from the other side. Jimin doesn't know what to expect. Yoongi's there too, off to the side, arms folded, stance tense.
“Park Jimin,” one of the scientists reads. “We will begin administering the test. It's a series of obstacles to manifest your powers. If you're in any danger, the test will stop.”
“Okay,” Jimin replies weakly.
Without warning, the wall opens up, and a huge boulder comes flying at him. Jimin punches through it, shattering the thing into a million pieces. What the fuck? That was fucking dangerous. Then the floor electrifies, jolting up Jimin's body painfully. The boy leaps into the air, grabbing onto a hanging ceiling light.
“What are you doing?” Jimin shouts. “This is fucking dangerous. Stop the test!!“
They don't stop; instead, Kunai come flying out at him from the floor, one piercing his gut. Jimin slams into the ground, clutching his stomach. “I'm hurt. S-Stop the test! Stop the test!“
The walls go up in flames, threatening to melt his skin off.
Something's wrong. Maybe there's a glitch. Fuck, his life is in danger. He's bleeding out on a floor that's running a billion watts, for god's sake.
In that moment of desperation, Jimin's blood boils, and he feels this power coursing through him. He needs to get out of here. And just as he needs it, a huge chunk of the wall just vanishes, compromising the test site. Alarms blare overhead, as the whole place shakes. Jimin crawls towards it, handholds blinking into existence that weren't there before. Then a staircase appears suddenly such that he can climb up and leave, as the shaking ever intensifies.
“Get me outta here,” Jimin screams.
His whole body goes rigid. Yoongi's behind him, shouting at him. “Stop, Jimin. Stop. It's okay. You're not hurt!“
“I'm bleeding out. My stomach.”
“Look down,” Yoongi urges, even as Jimin fights the constraints, the invisible strings. “You're not hurt. It was an illusion. The test isn't real!“
Jimin pans down. His stomach is fine, and the floors not really electrified. Immediately, the shaking stops.
“I-I thought I was gonna die,” he cries, patting his wound which isn't really there. It'd all been a trick.
“J-Jin's power is that he can make you see and feel things,” Yoongi says. “It was just an illusion.”
But the staircase is still there, and the hole in the wall remains. It is all fake?
“It felt so real.” Jimin hiccups through his tears.
Yoongi stares at the wall. “No, Jimin. That part is real.”
Jimin doesn't understand, and when he reaches out for Yoongi, the man flinches backward involuntarily. “That's your power, Jimin. It's called Rapid Collapse.”
The Captain's terrified of him.
“Yoongi?” Jimin sputters, rejection burn through his senses
“You can alter reality however you want, kid.”