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A dot of rain from Keonho's hair lands on his forehead. The downpour is long gone, but raindrops remain stuck to the window blurring the grey world passing by outside.
His arms ache as a result of another call from DeWolff sending him on a mission to save the city. A bank robbery, the emergency app had alerted, and he wasted no time in swinging through the city, sticking to skyscrapers and office buildings until he had saved all the innocent New-Yorkers inside and handed the perpetrator to the police officer who had given him all the information on the phone.
“Good job,” she said in a nice voice, despite the stressful situation and the heavy atmosphere that settled over the entire scene. “I’ll take it from here.”
“No, I can help,” Keonho had insisted, eyes searching for people in need of his assistance.
“This is the police’s responsibility now,” she had already begun walking, looking back at Keonho who was walking close behind her, eager as ever to be of help. “You’re Spider-Man, not an officer who has to fill out hundreds of pieces of paperwork now. Go home and rest.”
“Okay,” Keonho said quietly, dejected, his steps faltering as the officer kept walking toward another police car.
His disappointment must have been evident even through the mask covering his face, because the usually cold officer turned to him another time, waving him goodbye and mouthing ‘you did well.’
He swung his way into this convenience store, sitting close by the register with a cup of cheap coffee in his hand. It’s a warm contrast to the chilly air that stays stuck to the walls despite the low hum of a heater trying to fight against it.
The bell placed neatly above the door rings, dragging Keonho out of his daze and back into reality. A shadow walks in, quickly fading into the aisles packed with variations of snacks, drinks, and cheap food.
Keonho stares, curious, because he has nothing better to do. It doesn’t seem to be the case for the cashier, typing away at her phone like she has tens of people who care about what she has to say.
She raises her head when a man stands before her, a box of beers held in his hands, before she scans it lazily. “Thirty-one ninety-nine,” she says, watching the man search his pockets for his card.
“Do you have, uh,” the man hesitates, “do you have any Sharkfire?”
Keonho’s brows twist in confusion, and he debates googling what that could possibly mean, before the man speaks again. “You know what,” he scratches the back of his neck, “don’t sell them to me. Even if I ask.”
An amused smile finds its way to Keonho’s face, “Okay. Thirty-one ninety-nine,” the woman says blankly. Keonho stops himself from laughing out loud when the man looks betrayed by the cashier’s cooperation.
“Actually, just give me one, please. Just one and then that’s it.”
“Sure, thirty-seven ninety-eight.”
The objectively cute man taps his card, stuffing the beers along with the small bottle he’d tried to stop himself from purchasing into a bag, and steps out of the store, quietly thanking the cashier who’s already back to focusing on her phone.
Keonho gets up quickly, leaving his comfortable seat and the coffee that’s already gone cold behind him. Cool air hits his face when he leaves the store, eyes scanning for a man with a blue grocery bag in his hands.
When he finally spots him, Keonho walks quietly, blending with the large New York crowds, hiding as well as one can under hundreds of city lights. Why am I following him? He wonders for a moment, before walking onto the subway platform, waiting for whatever train the man from the convenience store is waiting for.
He’s probably sleep-deprived. His chronic headaches haven’t gotten any better either. He tries to talk himself into going back home as DeWolff had suggested. It’ll take two trains from here instead of the usual one, but he’d be home, resting, and most importantly not following a random boy to an unknown destination just because he thinks the man is cute and a little amusing.
He almost misses the train that appears in front of him when he regains focus and social awareness, hopping onto it quickly when he spots the man inside of it through the windows.
Keonho blends naturally again, standing up and presenting as a normal man commuting back home from work. His clothes probably look too casual, though, so he might just appear like a broke university student instead. It doesn’t really matter to Keonho as long as he isn’t suspicious, as if he is a threat rather than the anonymous superhero who keeps New York safe.
The man stood in front of him, far away enough to be a normal distance between two unsuspecting strangers but close enough to watch. He scrolls through his phone, a blue light painting his objectively pretty face inside the rather dark train, snaps a selfie of his face from far too close, giggles ten seconds after, and then settles the screen back into his pocket, holding the booze in his plastic bag with both hands.
Keonho takes it as a sign that the man is about to reach his destination. It’s only three stops away from the grocery store, and Keonho wonders if he’s about to find himself in a location where he’s completely uninvited, like a private gathering or a sleepover between close friends.
It’ll take him forever to swing back home if he chooses to skip the train. Maybe he could swing to a nearby station where it’s easier to ride back to Queens.
He walks a short distance before pausing in front of a modest apartment building, its worn walls and flickering lights casting a gentle glow on the street. Though it's still New York, bustling and vibrant with life and laughter, this place feels more serene.
The boy greets two tall, same-age-looking men standing by the door, cigarettes placed tightly between their teeth as they hug him. Keonho simply stares, stands behind a group of friends standing conveniently two steps away from the door.
With a deep breath, Keonho calms his racing heart before he steps into the building, maintaining a distance on the staircase the man climbs. He pauses when he sees the boy step into a party, walking through a large group of drunk friends into the kitchen and handing the bag of beers to a slightly taller man who smiles upon seeing him.
It takes one final internal battle for Keonho to step inside, smiling and greeting people who look in his direction, as if he truly belongs there. In his peripheral vision, he sees the man being scolded by his friend who was holding the small bottle of what Keonho now recognizes as Sharkfire in front of him, the cute man looking at the ground like a child would after being caught doing something bad.
The apartment is quite big, very spacious for a housing in New York. The lights are dimmed, creating a dark atmosphere only saved by the fairy lights scattered throughout the living area. It’s not too loud for a house party, considering how most of the guests seem to be his age—probably graduating university soon.
Keonho accepts a red cup full of some unknown kind of booze from a girl who smiles at him, greeting an overly enthusiastic, probably drunk man with high energy. He takes a sip from the plastic cup in his hand, face twisting uncomfortably at the burning sensation in his throat, the drink’s taste on his tongue too bad to make up for it.
He finds himself looking further into the apartment, where the guests don’t dare to trespass, an area too private for strangers to try to party in. The first door he sees is closed, probably locked, too. The second door is slightly open, a bright fluorescent light brightening the space Keonho figures is a washroom.
The next room he comes across is fully open, the door making contact with the wall behind it, as if it has nothing to hide. Keonho finds it slightly amusing, feeling just a speck less guilty when he walks past the door frame.
The room is mostly dark, a small bed placed next to a wall, a half-closed window above it letting the artificial lights from outside into the space. It doesn’t have too much decoration, a few hung photos of the man from the convenience store with his friends, accompanied by the same friend from the kitchen in most of them.
None of it compares to the left wall of the room, though. The white paint is barely visible under hundreds of photos of Spider-Man. Some of them were professionally taken, ones Keonho remembers posing in front of an oversized camera for, while others were taken by passerbys, photos of the superhero swinging through buildings or fighting a supervillain on a bridge.
They were placed along the wall in a clearly well thought out manner, each image printed and carefully handled, displayed in a fitting arrangement. Something like a Pinterest board but in real life. Against the wall was a table, clearly used for studying, although even there, was a collection of small figurines, finger-sized Spider-Man dolls and fan-made merchandise. Keonho picked up one of the figures, holding it in his hands with a smile on his face.
“What are you doing here?” A voice asked behind him, a little wary and surprised. Keonho jumps, startled, and turns around towards the voice. Before him stood the man from the convenience shop, a small light illuminating the pretty face.
“Oh, hi. I guess I was just curious when I saw the door open,” Keonho giggles awkwardly, a hand scratching at his hip.
“Who are you, though?”
“I’m just a neighbor from across the hall. Your friend invited me the other day— I forgot his name, sorry.”
“Juhoon?” The man asked, looking back and pointing at the same friend from earlier. “That makes sense, he was kinda excited about moving here.”
“Yeah, Juhoon.” Keonho says with a smile, praying the friend won’t notice him from across the apartment. He should change the subject. “I’m really impressed by your Spider-Man wall.”
“Oh, you like Spider-Man too?” The man’s face immediately brightens up, a small smile shifting his pink lips. He’s so cute.
“Yeah, I’m a really big fan,” Keonho looks over to the wall, “although maybe not as big as you.”
The man giggles shyly, almost embarrassed about his shrine-like decor. “I really like him,” he admits, as if it wasn’t overtly obvious, and walks closer towards the wall after closing the door behind him, the loud music and chatter becoming muffled. “I’ve been trying to figure out who he is, but I don’t think I'm anywhere near close.”
Keonho almost chokes on his own spit, this man has been trying to find out who I am? He looks over to the thin strings connecting some of the photos, reminiscent of an investigation film, and figures it must be the boy connecting some dots in his mind. “Wow, I didn’t even think about trying to know his real identity.”
“Really? Are you not in the Spider-Man forums? I feel like a lot of the members try to find him.”
“Oh, well, I’m only on Twitter. You know, the updates are much faster there,” Keonho locks his eyes with the boy as he searches through his brain for something that would make him seem like a real fan. “Did you hear about how he saved people from a bank robbery today?”
The man gasps, pulling out his phone. He types something quickly and looks up at Keonho, a confused expression painting his features. “There’s no mention of it in the forum I’m on,” he shoves his phone in Keonho’s face.
The light is too bright, blinding Keonho, who squints his eyes and pushes the phone out of his view, holding onto the man’s delicate wrist in the process. He hesitates before letting go, looking back into the wide eyes. “That’s why I use Twitter. Faster updates.”
The man giggles, nodding his head in approval. Looking back between Keonho and the wall, his lips purse in thought before he speaks again. “Uh, by the way, what’s your name?”
“I’m Keonho,” he says gently, “I’m pretty sure Juhoon mentioned your name when he was inviting me, but I forgot.”
“Oh, that’s fine. I’m Seonghyeon,” the man— Seonghyeon, walks past Keonho and into his room, sitting on his bed. It bounces just slightly under him, the white sheets move with his hands as he pats the spot next to him, silently inviting Keonho to sit down.
Keonho is hesitant, standing by the edge of the bed unsure of whether he’s allowed to sit on someone else’s bed, despite the invite. When Seonghyeon looks up at him, eyes patient and beautiful, his feet drag him to the spot next to the man. He sits down, a few inches between them, and maybe this is too far apart? He scoots closer, but it feels too close now, his thigh is almost brushing against Seonghyeon’s.
“So, Keonho, tell me about yourself,” Seonghyeon says before Keonho gets another moment to reconsider the distance between them. His eyes twitch slightly, like he’s cringing at himself, or rather at the way his words lack confidence.
“Uh, I’m a third year student. Empire state. I moved here not long ago, needed a place close enough to both the campus and my aunt. Though she doesn’t really live close to this neighborhood anyway, so I don’t know why i chose this place.”
Seonghyeon looks stunned for about three seconds, before he nods, his lips pouting as if in deep thought. “I’m a third year too. MIT. I’m sharing this apartment with Juhoon, though I’m sure you figured that out by now. Uh, I’m still looking for a job so we moved here so we could save on rent.”
Keonho smiles, meeting Seonghyeon’s nervous eyes. He looks unsure of what to do or say, his black eyes moving left to right unnaturally, his attempt of not breaking eye contact with Keonho painfully obvious. “Do you have a girlfriend?” He asks instead.
“Uh, no I don’t,” Keonho admits, deciding to skip the fact that he doesn’t have friends, either. It’s what he’s willing to sacrifice for his role as an anonymous superhero, or was willing to, at least. He isn’t completely sure what he wants from Seonghyeon yet. “What about you?”
“I don’t like girls,” Seonghyeon says, breaking eye contact and looking towards his Spider-Man wall as if it’ll save him from the shyness in his tone. “Isn’t it weird? Spider-Man fans are usually either kids or super straight dudes.”
“Why would it be weird? I’m sure none of them would have a problem with that,” Keonho says, not comforting enough even in his own opinion. He doesn’t think anything he’d say could have a strong enough effect, but he tries anyway. “I know Spider-Man wouldn’t find it weird.”
“That sounds stupid,” Seonghyeon laughs, hitting Keonho’s shoulder, like a habit when he finds something too funny to control his limbs. “I don’t really care about that. I just like him because he’s kind, and helps our city.”
Seonghyeon purses his lips into a small smile, looking back at Keonho. Keonho’s heart feels warmer at the words, his eyes shining when they look into Seonghyeon’s. The acknowledgment of his effort always makes him happy, but something about hearing these words from Seonghyeon feels different.
“I didn’t ask you because I was trying to hit on you,” Seonghyeon says just above a whisper, breaking the silence Keonho believed was a comfortable one. “So you don’t have to worry.”
“Huh? I wasn’t worried,” Keonho blurts out. He doesn’t know why Seonghyeon’s words hit him the way they do, like daggers thrown at his heart that’s still confused over why he is here in the first place. Seonghyeon’s room suddenly feels too small, the lack of air between them too suffocating to bear. “I don’t mind.”
Seonghyeon swallows, then nods again, moving slowly, as if he’s unsure of what to discuss next. It weighs on Keonho, a heavy feeling settling in his chest. He despises the feeling of Seonghyeon creating distance, even if they’re still seated closely next to each other.
“Should we look up videos from that robbery earlier? I bet it’s really cool,” Keonho suggests, a weak attempt of breaking the silence by returning to the only common interest they share. He knows it feels awkward, as if those words were never meant to be spoken. Seonghyeon must feel the same way, because he doesn’t respond, the words not even occupying his mind. Instead, he looks at Keonho, his eyes soft and endearing, and the silence feels too heavy to ignore anymore.
Keonho breathes deep, forcing air into his lungs as he stares right back into seonghyeon’s eyes. His hand instinctively rests on the other boy's thigh, moving gently. The touch is soft, as if Seonghyeon could break with anything more forceful, and he breathes out a faint gasp when Keonho's hand moves up to his hip.
“Keonho, I—” Seonghyeon starts, before he flinches at the loud sound of the door opening, slamming against the wall near it. Keonho’s palm instinctively settles at the small of his back in a soothing manner, trying to calm down a terrified Seonghyeon, whose eyes are wide with something darker behind them, like he’s plotting the murder of the man standing at his door.
“Seonghyeon-ah, I thought you— wait, fuck,” the figure by the doorframe, a tall shadow with hints of blond hair long enough to fit in a small bun, stands there, awkward. His face is barely visible, yet it still carries something that seems like surprise as he looks back and forth between the two. “I didn’t mean to cockblock you, man, sorry.”
“What— No, you—” Seonghyeon looks over to Keonho, like he could save him from this situation. Did this man cockblock them? Keonho wasn’t sure where they were going with this. He is clearly attracted to Seonghyeon, but he doesn’t know if the feeling is mutual enough for something to happen so quickly.
Seonghyeon simply pinches the bridge of his nose, “Martin, please just get the hell out.”
“Yeah, sure,” the tall man Keonho now knows is named Martin stumbles over his feet, “I was just gonna tell you that Juhoon and I are heading back to mine later, you know,” he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, “anyway, I looked everywhere for you. Nice to see you finally putting yourself out there,” he winks in Keonho's direction, then leaves, closing the door behind him.
The room feels quieter than before, even with the bass vibrating through the floor and the occasional screams of drunk students outside of the closed, small space. It feels almost suffocating. When Seonghyeon speaks up again, his voice breaks. He coughs once, his eyes staring at the wall next to him, and tries again. “He just means that— Well, I haven’t gotten with anyone since my ex, and that was like, over a year ago. Not that that is what this is, I mean— Uh.”
Keonho smiles, shuffling on the bed just a little farther from Seonghyeon than before. It still feels entirely too close. “That’s fine. I wouldn’t make a move on a drunk person, anyway.”
“Drunk? I’m not drunk.” Seonghyeon looks back at him with confusion.
“That, uh, small bottle that you held.”
“Sharkfire? That’s not alcohol,” Seonghyeon clarifies, swallowing, before his brows furrow, eyes squinting as if he’d realized something far too late. “Wait, how did you know I drank one?”
Keonho’s breath catches in his throat, his head falling down like a sad, guilty puppy. “Well, I saw you earlier. I mean, I looked. Sorry.”
“Oh, that’s. Okay. That’s okay,” Seonghyeon processes the information out loud, his ears turning a bright red.
“Maybe we should meet up another time,” Keonho concludes, although disappointed by his own words. He almost wishes Seonghyeon would say no. Pull him by the collar and kiss him senseless and won’t let this silent moment go. He’s not completely sure why he wishes for this. It’s also why he doesn’t trust himself to not ruin his first romantic interest in a long time by completely misreading the signs and moving too fast. “Give me your phone.”
Seonghyeon gets up from the bed, walking to his table, a short walk there and back in front of Keonho, and hands him his cellphone. Keonho smiles when he sees the red phone case.
He types his number. “Here,” he says, handing it back, saving it under “Ahn Keonho” followed by a spider emoji.
Seonghyeon nods, dialing the number quickly. When Keonho’s phone screen comes to life, Seonghyeon touches his shoulder. “Eom Seonghyeon.”
“Huh?”
“My full name is Eom Seonghyeon. I mean, since you saved it as your full name.”
“Oh, okay,” Keonho smiles, writing the pretty man’s full name and quickly pressing the spider web emoji.
🕷️
Keonho’s fingers tap restlessly on the table, dancing unconsciously as a way to calm the nerves in his body. The smell of coffee invades his nose, and the slow indie songs that play through the speaker barely make it into his ears, his thoughts much too loud to process anything else.
Seonghyeon should be here any minute now, he thinks, opening his phone for what he thinks might be the fifty-fourth time since he got here, before shutting it off again when he sees it’s the same as the previous times he’d checked. No new notifications from the boy he is supposed to meet.
A gust of wind hits him straight across the face when the door opens. Raising his head, Keonho is faced with a short, blonde girl, her pink tank top destroying all hope in Keonho’s heart. He’d cautiously picked out this café, digging through the depths of social media for a good enough recommendation. Something that’s nice without trying too hard. A spot for a date that isn’t really a date because Seonghyeon never said it was.
“Wow, you’re so excited to see me.” Keonho raises his head in surprise, smiling when he sees Seonghyeon in front of him.
“I am, sorry, I was waiting for you to text,” Keonho stands up, wiping his wet hands on his thighs, looking across the café, “I ordered ice americano, for both of us. And a cheesecake. It has, like, berries on it. I’ll go pick it up.”
Seonghyeon nods before he sits down, patiently resting his hands on his knees. The atmosphere settles over them like a cloud heavy with rain, making their iced drinks even colder.
“So, about that article you were talking about,” Seonghyeon decides to finally save the two of them from the odd silence, locking eyes with Keonho’s shiny ones. “I thought about what you said. I don’t think it’s worth stressing over.”
“Really? But they were hating on this random kid.”
“We don’t really know if he’s random,” Seonghyeon shrugs his shoulders.
“Well, that guy is not Spider-Man, so shouldn’t it be taken care of?”
“You don’t know who Spider-Man is.”
“I— Okay, but even if I don’t, it’s still slander.”
“I think you should stop worrying so much,” Seonghyeon’s face looks sincere, and Keonho’s conflicted feelings slowly creep out of his body. “It’s not like you’re Spider-Man’s one-man PR team.”
Technically, Keonho is. Because he is Spider-Man, and, last he checked, he's yet to hire anyone other than himself for PR. It's his fourth year as a so-called ‘superhero,’ so he's used to the criticism. It's weird for someone else to receive all the criticism on his behalf. He can't say anything though. Not even to help some innocent kid being framed as Spider-Man.
“And I thought I was the die-hard fan,” Seonghyeon giggles, his hand landing on Keonho’s, wet from the quickly melting drink staining his glass. “Maybe you’re worse than me.”
“No way,” Keonho laughs, searching his brain for an excuse that won’t expose his true identity. “I just, well, I worked for a gossip paper some time ago, The Daily Bugle, so I had to research a lot about superheros.”
“Really?” Seonghyeon sounds fascinated, his voice an octave higher than before, “What do you do for work now, then?”
Keonho chokes, a blueberry nearly flying out of his mouth. Seonghyeon is visibly startled, a small jump being forced out of his body before he hands Keonho a napkin, eyes wide with worry.
“Sorry, uh,” Keonho coughs, twice, swallowing before he tries to speak again, “I’m still looking for an internship, you know how it is, they demand too many work hours than I can commit to while studying.”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” Seonghyeon sighs. He seems to buy it, and Keonho finally lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I had to share an apartment with Juhoon so I wouldn’t go bankrupt.”
Keonho stifles a laugh, watching with adoration as Seonghyeon takes a bite out of the cheesecake, his eyes shining as he does a little dance Keonho assumes means he likes it. “I’m assuming he isn’t very pleasant to share a space with?”
“He’s the worst,” Seonghyeon says hurriedly, swallowing the remnants of the sticky cake before he continues, “try listening to Martin’s dirty talk multiple times a week. It’s like trying to fall asleep on an electric chair.”
“Martin? What’s he got to do with your room?”
“Do you not hear stuff from other rooms in your apartment? the walls are so thin I’m pretty sure I can hear Juhoon snore some times.”
Of course he doesn’t. He lives in Queens. “Oh, no, I’m not sharing the place with anyone.” He hopes his tone is convincing enough. “Is he dating Juhoon, or something?”
“Martin? Yeah. I thought you figured that when he bothered us to bullshit about fucking Juhoon while I had to clean the entire place by myself.”
“Oh,” Keonho purses his lips. Was he supposed to read more into the interaction that night? More importantly, Martin bothered them? He stops a smile from creeping up his face when he realizes what Seonghyeon is hinting at.
“You’re not homophobic, or anything, right?”
“What? Of course not!” Keonho near-yells, and Seonghyeon simply laughs, his chest jumping with it.
🕷️
The next time Keonho hears Seonghyeon’s voice is when he swings back home. His limbs feel heavy, tiredness taking over his entire form as he sighs softly, shooting another string of web onto a nearby building. It’s instinctive when he answers the call mid-air. Nobody ever calls him other than DeWolff, and considering the fact she has his number saved as Spider-Man, she is never surprised to hear him breathless or the wind blowing in his phone’s microphone.
“Keonho? Where are you?” Seonghyeon’s voice sounds worried when the loud wind blasts into his ears through the speaker. It’s weird hearing Seonghyeon’s voice again. Keonho had made it his personal mission to message the boy whenever he isn’t busy with saving the city, building a closer connection over three weeks of texting, but hearing his voice is different. It’s still as nice as he remembers it.
“Oh, just heading home,” Keonho grabs onto a smaller building, landing messily on the sidewalk and slipping into a small alleyway between two old stores.
He catches his breath quickly, trying to kick some more adrenaline into his tired bones. When he hears a loud voice shout “Look! It’s Spider-Man!” behind him, he curses under his breath and runs further into the narrow space, hiding from the people gathering around to look for him. He hopes Seonghyeon doesn’t hear it.
“Spider-Man? Keonho, is he near you?” There’s a loud thud coming from the other side of the line, something like a stomp, and then a piece of plastic clashing loudly with the floor.
“I don’t know, I don’t see him,” Keonho holds his head in his hands, a throbbing pain slowly building at the top of his head, just like it always does. “Why did you call, Seonghyeon?”
“Oh, I was wondering if you wanted to come over,” Seonghyeon says quietly, the shyness that only appears when Seonghyeon is truly embarrassed and insecure loud in his tone. “Juhoon is staying over at Martin’s, and I'm scared to stay alone.”
Keonho doesn’t dwell on whether that means Seonghyeon wants him to stay the night or not, he simply smiles and continues to regulate his breaths. “Sure, is there anything you want to eat? I can pick it up on the way there.”
“I’m craving strawberries.”
“Okay, I’ll be there soon,” Keonho says with a giggle.
He’s lucky Seonghyeon’s call came when he was already halfway back to Queens, having enough time to change out of his suit and into presentable enough clothes. He stops by a bodega and picks up two boxes of fresh strawberries before he stands in front of a wine bottle, debating whether it’d be appropriate to walk into Seonghyeon’s apartment with one or not. It takes him at least three minutes to wrap his hand around the bottle and walk toward the cashier before he can decide against it.
Keonho already knows the stop closest to Seonghyeon’s and what’s also supposed to be his apartment building, riding the same line he used when he first got there, walking the route he remembers Seonghyeon’s back walking through.
It takes him three knocks and two silent mental breakdowns before the door opens. Standing in front of him is Seonghyeon in comfortable clothes, a short, loose pair of black shorts paired with a long and oversized white shirt. How can he look so pretty in such casual fashion?
Keonho suddenly feels overdressed, like he dressed for a date night when Seonghyeon looks as if he is minutes away from sleep. He coughs awkwardly before raising the grocery bag in his hands, showing it off to Seonghyeon. “Hi.”
“Hi, come in,” Seonghyeon opens the door and takes a step back.
The place is much nicer than Keonho remembers it. With dim mood-lights, a comfortable-looking couch and well decorated interior, it’s nothing like Seonghyeon’s rather-empty room, nothing about it giving the impression of two young students calling it their home.
“Where were you?” Seonghyeon asks, walking toward the living room cautiously, his hips swaying with it. Keonho has to force his eyes to focus on something else, like the lego model displayed proudly on the kitchen island.
“Huh?”
“You weren’t home when I called you.”
“Oh, I was just studying,” Keonho trails after Seonghyeon, looking down at him as he sits on the white couch. “I went to some small café.”
Seonghyeon doesn’t comment on Keonho’s clothing choices, but the skepticism is evident in his eyes when he looks up and down. He pats the space next to him, and Keonho digs through the plastic bag, setting the strawberries and wine on the table before hurriedly sitting down next to Seonghyeon.
“You brought wine?” Seonghyeon asks, then reaches for the fruit instead.
“It felt weird visiting with only a bag of strawberries.”
Seonghyeon giggles, nodding, then walks quickly towards the kitchen, pulling out two wine glasses and setting them down on the table near Keonho’s nervously jumping legs.
Keonho swallows, dragging his wet hands on the rough fabric of his jeans, and pours the wine in the two glasses, immediately attaching his to his lips, chugging the red liquid in hopes it’ll calm him down.
He doesn’t really know what to talk about with Seonghyeon. Sure, they’ve gotten closer over the past few weeks, their conversations varying more topics than Keonho ever thought he could manage with him, and their connection is much stronger than before, but it’s still hard to strike up a conversation with him in person. It makes Keonho feel like a teenager again, easily intimidated and goofy whenever he looks at the attractive boy.
“Spider-Man saved some kids today,” Seonghyeon speaks instead, the juice of a strawberry coating his lips, making them shiny as he sits with his back laying comfortably against the couch, a box of the red fruit in his hands. “I started using Twitter for faster updates. Like you said.”
“Oh, really?” Keonho’s grip on the glass strengthens, and he has to hold himself back from downing the entire thing. He looks back at Seonghyeon, pursing his lips as he watches him looking beautiful in his most comfortable form. “I didn’t see that.”
“Yeah, some guy in a suit, with, like, wings made out of metal, he was fighting Spider-Man and almost crashed into a school bus.”
“Wow,” Keonho sets the glass back onto the table, shuffling back in an awkward attempt to settle more comfortably into the couch. “It must suck.”
“Being Spider-Man? Yeah, it seems so tiring. I don’t know how he does it,” Seonghyeon’s eyes seem to light up, like they often do when he gets to talk about his favorite superhero, “Do you think he has a girlfriend?”
Keonho’s head turns much too quickly, fully facing Seonghyeon for the first time today, before he swallows, forcing a chuckle out of his throat. “I don’t know.”
“He must have one, right? It’s like, how can you be out there saving the city all day and not come back home to someone who would take care of you?”
Keonho lowers his gaze, nodding with his head down like a sad puppy. “I guess.”
“What’s wrong?” Seonghyeon moves closer to Keonho, resting his fingers on the other’s face, “Are you feeling sick? Your ears are red but you’re not running a fever.”
Keonho wraps his fingers around Seonghyeon’s wrists, keeping the boy’s warm fingers on his cheeks with weak force. His eyes lock with Seonghyeon’s wide ones, shining and beautiful just like the rest of him. He speaks before his consciousness convinces him not to. “Can I kiss you?”
Seonghyeon’s brows furrow instantly, his face distancing from Keonho’s. He looks as though he’d seen a ghost, and Keonho prays to whatever god is up there that the boy won’t run away from him or kick him out of his home.
“Keonho, I thought you were straight.”
“I’m— I don’t know, I just,” Keonho’s eyes dance across the room, anywhere that isn’t Seonghyeon’s terrified gaze, before he settles just there, forcing air into his lungs before speaking again, “I’ve liked you since the moment I first saw you.”
Seonghyeon doesn’t know they have different versions of first meetings, Keonho thinks, a strong feeling of shame flooding his chest. His gaze falls again, head dropping in defeat, only supported by Seonghyeon’s fingers that are somehow still holding onto his warm cheeks. Keonho feels his head being forcibly raised, his wet eyes meeting with Seonghyeon’s before the boy pulls him in.
Their lips meet in a hurried manner, Seonghyeon’s soft lips against Keonho’s chapped ones, rough like everything else about him. Seonghyeon’s hands move from his face to the back of his head, his fingers entangling in Keonho’s black, short strands of hair. It’s chaste, not a deep or aggressive touch, but it’s all Keonho had been dreaming of since he’d met Seonghyeon.
Keonho licks the boy's lower lip, teasing it before giving it a light bite. It's a tender touch, not designed to hurt, yet Seonghyeon moans with desire, pulling Keonho impossibly closer. His hands roam across Keonho's abdomen, feeling the sculpted muscles beneath his fingertips, the eager touch a faint whisper over his shirt.
Opening his mouth, Seonghyeon invites Keonho in, moaning quietly when Keonho explores deeper into his mouth, sucking on his gentle, shy tongue. The sweet tartness from the remains of fruit on Seonghyeon’s tongue mixes with Keonho’s wine-bitter one, the flavor of their entangling saliva addicting.
Seonghyeon’s muscles give out, slowly settling into the couch until his back rests against it, his entire frame engulfed by Keonho’s bigger one, his legs caging Seonghyeon’s, hands on either side of his head.
“Please,” Seonghyeon whispers softly when they part, a string of saliva connecting their mouths that sends blood rushing to Keonho’s face, a deep red blooming on his skin quickly. Embarrassed, he dips his head into Seonghyeon’s neck, licking at the exposed skin there,
Using his lips, Keonho leaves open mouthed kisses before settling on a spot at the edge of Seonghyeon’s jawline, sucking onto the skin, before playfully biting the irritated area, admiring the mark that forms as he pulls away. Meeting Seonghyeon’s gaze, Keonho can’t resist leaning back in, capturing his lips once more and intensifying the kiss immediately.
“Keonho, please,” Seonghyeon repeats impatiently against Keonho’s lips, whining and squirming under Keonho’s hold. “Just touch me already.”
”Shit, okay,” Keonho leans back before catching the worn-out fabric of Seonghyeon’s sleep shirt between his fingers, looking down at the boy for a sign of approval. When Seonghyeon nods a little too enthusiastically, Keonho smiles at him, raising his shirt and peeling it off of the pretty boy, throwing it onto the carpet beside them.
He can’t resist leaning down, taking Seonghyeon’s nipple between his lips, licking at the sensitive bud. Seonghyeon squirms under his touch, his back arching off of the couch, hands settling into Keonho’s hair, keeping him there. Keonho smiles against his chest, grazing his teeth teasingly around the reddening skin.
Seonghyeon moans loudly, immediately putting his arm over his mouth in embarrassment, a weak attempt of not letting more sounds escape him. Keonho, on the other hand, places his lips on the second, unattended bud, before pinching at the already abused one, punching another loud noise out of Seonghyeon’s throat, proving his efforts useless.
“You— you too,” Seonghyeon says weakly.
”Huh?”
“Your shirt, take it off too.”
Keonho swallows loudly before pulling back, quickly pulling his shirt over his head and throwing it over Seonghyeon’s on the floor. When he looks down to the other boy, he can only describe the look in his eyes as hungry. There are no hints of love or affection, purely lust dripping from his eyes as he looks Keonho up and down, unconsciously licking his lips at the sight. Keonho isn’t hurt by it, he accepts it with open arms, instead. He’s more than willing to take anything Seonghyeon gives him.
Seonghyeon’s hands reach to run all over his toned abs, his small and pale fingers softly grabbing at any piece of hard muscle they could reach, his touch soft as he moves to Keonho’s chest, then shoulders. When they reach his back, Seonghyeon pulls Keonho in again, his tongue licking at his sweaty bicep before laying down again, spreading his legs invitingly.
Keonho would say he is a pretty strong man, both in the physical and mental aspects of the word, but no strength in the universe could hold him back from settling between Seonghyeo’s open thighs, pulling his shorts and briefs off in one swift motion. He takes a moment to simply stare at Seonghyeon. His flawless, soft and pale skin, the few marks Keonho had left on the surface of it, the way Seonghyeon turns his head to the side, burying it deep in the couch, too shy to watch Keonho admiring his naked form.
“You’re so beautiful,” Keonho whispers, his voice ringing off the walls of the much too quiet apartment. Seonghyeon doesn’t say anything back, only kicking Keonho’s hip in response. Keonho leans down to kiss Seonghyeon’s delicate thighs, lips open around the sensitive skin, holding his ankles when Seonghyeon’s legs flinch instinctively.
He sucks another mark onto Seonghyeon’s inner thigh, drawing endless whiny moans from the boy, keeping a steady hand on his chest, holding him down whenever he squirms or tries to kick him. The small boy has no chance against the superhero’s physical strength. “Fuck, Keonho.”
“Hmm?” Keonho hums against his skin, sending visible goosebumps running down Seonghyeon’s skin, his breath catching in his throat.
“So good, ngh,” Seonghyeon runs his thumb across Keonho’s cheek, his eyes blown out and wet when Keonho raises his head to face him. “Please fuck me.”
Keonho feels his brain short circuiting at the words, at the Seonghyeon’s breathy and desperate voice directs them at him. “Yeah, of course,” he raises back to his knees quickly, movement too clumsy and eager to please, “do you have any lube?”
“Only in my room,” Seonghyeon says simply, skipping over the fact that he doesn’t usually plan to fuck his visiting friends in his living room.
“Your room,” Keonho repeats, thinking back to the wall full of his photos, and decides against going anywhere near there right now. Instead, he places two of his fingers in his mouth, licking at them clumsily, his tongue sticking out oddly without any experience in its movements. “Is this okay?”
Seonghyeon looks up at him, his expression unreadable, before he grabs Keonho’s wrist, pulling his hand. He takes his fingers in his mouth, licking them expertly, sucking onto the digits diligently. He looks ethereal, drool coating his chin, lips puffy and red. Keonho pushes his fingers deeper, his cock twitching in his pants when Seonghyeon chokes on his fingers, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.
It’s only when Seonghyeon struggles around his digits that Keonho pulls back, quickly removing his saliva coated fingers from Seonghyeon’s pretty mouth. “Shit, sorry, I’m sorry,” Keonho runs his thumb across Seonghyeon’s cheekbone, wiping away a tear that falls from the boy's eye, “You’re just so hot.”
Seonghyeon scoffs, his voice hoarse. He simply smiles, pulling Keonho into a quick kiss before kicking him off again, “Come on, don’t let your fingers dry up. I’m not doing that again.”
Keonho nods quickly, pulling Seonghyeon’s thighs apart, settling between them as if he belongs nowhere else, and places his saliva coated fingers against his rim. Seonghyeon gasps, his eyes tightly shut as he braces himself. Keonho is careful when he pushes the first finger in, slow and patient, watching Seonghyeon’s face for any signs of discomfort or pain.
Seonghyeon's face, on the other hand, is filled with pleasure, his eyes rolled back and his mouth agape, his tongue lolling seductively. It must be one of the most beautiful sights Keonho has ever seen. He never wants to leave.
“More,” Seonghyeon whispers, pulling Keonho out of his daze, his eyes wide with a silent plea.
Keonho doesn’t think he’s capable of doing anything other than complying, so he does, pushing another thick finger into Seonghyeon seat heat, slower and more careful than before.
Seonghyeon moans loudly this time, his hand gripping the firm fabric of the couch helplessly, desperate for something to hold. He purses his lips, his mouth shut around another whine when Keonho reaches for his hand instead, intertwining their fingers and placing it above Seonghyeon’s head. “Shit, Keonho-yah.”
“Hmm? How is it, baby?” Keonho moves faster, pulling his fingers almost completely out before slamming them back into Seonghyeon, forcing choked out moans out of the boy with each thrust of his fingers.
“So—fuck!” Seonghyeon lets out a high-pitched whine when Keonho’s tongue licks at his nipple again, more ruthless this time, “So good.”
Keonho grunts against his skin in response, driving deeper and harder into Seonghyeon’s addicting heat, watching a tear drop from the boy’s eyes, landing on his neck. He moves up to kiss Seonghyeon, deepening it instantly, sighing in content when Seonghyeon squeezes his hand tightly.
“You’re so perfect, Seonghyeon, oh my God,” Keonho licks his neck, sucking faint marks onto all the spots of the fair skin he can reach. Seonghyeon whines again, his head thrown back before he opens his eyes again, his gaze locking with Keonho’s.
His eyes are shiny, unshed tears coating them beautifully. His body goes limp, bottom lip caught between his teeth before he speaks again. “Keonho, I,” he looks away, too shy to speak with Keonho’s eyes looking into his, “I want more.”
Keonho understands quickly, although his body can’t keep up with his brain and fast-beating heart, his limbs frozen in their tracks as he blinks twice before moving. He pulls out of Seonghyeon’s hole, hand parting from the boy’s with a deep ache in his heart.
Quickly undoing his belt, Keonho pulls his pants and boxers down at once, letting them pool by his knees before settling between Seonghyeon’s legs again, discontent with being apart from the pretty boy for too long.
A low, guttural sound is punched out of his throat when Seonghyeon’s hand wraps around him, holding his painfully hard cock. He gathers the leaking precum from the head, using it for a smoother slide before he strokes up and down, his eyes hungry with Keonho’s cock twitching harshly from his touch.
Seonghyeon’s hands are soft, smooth, and much too small for a man his age. The sight of his delicate fingers wrapped around Keonho alone has him holding back an orgasm, fucking up into the sweaty hand. “Fuck, Seonghyeon.”
The boy pulls back for a second, smiling when Keonho’s eyes immediately pop out, looking into his, before he spits in his hand and reaches between his legs again, thoroughly slicking Keonho’s cock up. Keonho’s head falls onto Seonghyeon’s shoulder, settling in his collarbone.
Breathing deeply, eyes shut tight, Keonho’s senses are flooded by Seonghyeon’s scent, a sweet, honey-scented soap smell laced with layers of sweat serving as an anchor for Keonho’s overwhelmed mind. Seonghyeon’s hand moves faster, Keonho’s cock now thoroughly coated with both Seonghyeon’s saliva and his own precum, and Keonho has to bite the boy’s skin harshly to keep his control. “Seonghyeon, I, shit, I need to be inside you.
Seonghyeon whines at the words, nodding wordlessly before slowly removing his hand from Keonho’s length, his fingers settling at the back of his neck instead. Keonho leaves a small peck on Seonghyeon’s forehead before he readjusts his position, lining himself up with the boy’s hole.
“Let me know if I should stop, okay?” Keonho says, the head of his cock caught in Seonghyeon’s rim. Seonghyeon simply nods, his hand twitching on Keonho’s neck when he starts leaning in.
Keonho pushes inside slowly, letting Seonghyeon adjust to every inch, watching the boy’s expression tense up then soften again, his muscles twitching before he breathes deeply, relaxing around the length.
It’s a tight fit, Keonho thinks he should have prepared Seonghyeon more, but it feels too good to regret. Seonghyeon’s warm heat swallows him whole, throbbing around him when he bottoms out with a tear falling down the boy’s cheek. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Seonghyeon’s voice breaks around the syllable, “yeah, it’s just been a while.”
Keonho reaches to leave a small kiss at the corner of Seonghyeon’s lips, his hand softly tugging a strand of hair behind his ears, staring at the beautiful boy as he attempts to relax.
“You can move now,” Seonghyeon says above a whisper, his hand open next to his head in a silent request to be held.
Taking Seonghyeon’s hand in his, Keonho holds him tight before pulling out slowly, almost all the way to the tip before pushing back in, adoring every pained whine that escapes Seonghyeon’s mouth as he does.
“You’re so, ugh,” Seonghyeon tries, another moan forced out of him when Keonho pushes in and out in a painfully slow manner, “you’re so big.”
“Fuck, Seonghyeon, you can’t just say things like that,” Keonho rasps out, hips stuttering in a desperate attempt to take it easy on the boy, “not when I’m trying to be gentle.”
“You don’t have to,” Seonghyeon rolls his hips, fucking back onto Keonho’s cock, his pace quicker, desperate. “I like it hard.”
The words snap his restraint clean in two, every thought of holding back gone as if it had never existed in the first place. Keonho picks his pace up, his hand holding Seonghyeon’s waist, pinning him to the couch with a strong, steady grip, his cock twitching when Seonghyeon moans loudly, a high-pitched noise sounding angelic in his ears.
“Ngh, oh my God,” Seonghyeon groans, his knuckles going white around Keonho’s, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the walls of the large and empty apartment.
Keonho licks at Seonghyeon’s neck before biting on it, his hips snapping harder in and out of Seonghyeon’s tight heat. “You feel so good, baby.”
Seonghyeon can only moan in response, clenching harder around Keonho, who keeps sucking marks all over his body, marking hip up as if he’s claiming him as his.
When Keonho readjusts his hips, the new angle driving his cock impossibly deeper into Seonghyeon, the boy lets out a sound that could be described as a scream. His eyes roll back, toes curling. “Right there, Keonho, please.”
Keonho thrusts his hips in sharper movements, hitting Seonghyeon’s sensitive spot over and over again until the boy is thrashing under him, body jumping uncontrollably, only held down by Keonho’s strong hand. “You’re doing so well, Seonghyeon.”
“I— I can't, Keonho,” Seonghyeon shakes his head furiously, his jaw dropped from the pleasure, letting out an endless choir of moans and whines. “I’m so close.”
“Cum for me, baby,” Keonho thrusts harder, desperate to tip Seonghyeon over the edge. He untangles his hand from Seonghyeon’s, wrapping it around the boy’s leaking cock instead, matching the pace of his relentless thrusts, before catching his nipple in his mouth again, licking the abused skin.
It’s all it takes for Seonghyeon to release into his hand, a loud cry dragged out of his throat. Tears stream down his face as he calms down, hole clenching around nothing once he’s conscious enough to notice Keonho had pulled out.
Keonho jerks himself furiously, silent save from a few low grunts, his bottom lip caught harshly between his teeth as he stares down at Seonghyeon. He’s a mess, truly, bite marks spread unevenly across his neck and chest, his nipples red and bruised, his own cum drying up on his stomach. His big, black eyes, red at the rim from violently shed tears stare at Keonho, and the sight is unbelievably better than any of his wet dreams could ever come up with.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says, voice low and spent, “so, so perfect, Seonghyeonie.” He lets out string of praise that sound more like a prayer, practiced and carrying a full, truthful belief as he reaches his orgasm, his cum mixing with Seonghyeon’s on the boy’s stomach, and then his muscles give out, his body landing closely next to Seonghyeon on the not-wide-enough couch.
He breathes Seonghyeon in, his harsh and uneven breath trying to match up to Seonghyeon’s calmer one. His arm curls around the boy’s waist, pulling him closer and kissing his forehead lazily. It’s quiet for what feels like three hours, their now synchronized breaths filling his ears.
“Can you check what time it is?” Seonghyeon says, his voice small and laced with sleepiness quickly catching up with him.
“Yeah,” Keonho pulls up his unoccupied hand, lazily shooting a web at the table where his phone had been sitting since he stepped into the apartment and pulling the small device towards him. The screen is too bright in his tired eyes, the home screen showing the numbers in a big, red font. “It’s ten fifty-five.”
When he places his phone down, looking back at the boy next to him, Seonghyeon’s eyes are so wide Keonho thinks they might pop out of the poor boy’s skull.