Superheroes Suck: The Unnecessary Novella

Chapter 1: I Was WAY Cooler In High School

The hot shot...

The shot hot...

Scratch both of those. I wanted to start this with some cool and catchy - maybe even slightly punny - an intro about how I'm an ace photographer capturing cool shots in the seedy underbelly of Belhurst.

My life in general has slowed down quite a bit. I'm not complaining about a little boring in my life, not that my life is boring, but I feel like the most interesting part of my life peaked in high school.

That's more than a little depressing.

The sudden rustling of curtains was enough to send me to my feet, ready to throw the first object I could get my hands on at my presumed intruder.

"You know that's a $2,000 vase in your hands, right Wallflower."

He closed the patio doors carefully, readjusting the curtains before turning back to me.

A startled sound left my lips, "Why is something that expensive on the coffee table?" I asked as I carefully set the vase down.

"I don't know, I didn't decorate this place." He scoffed.

Fuck rich people.

That's when the situation hit me.

His bright green eyes met mine and I couldn't keep the smile off my face. Laughing, I launched myself into his arms, "Welcome home hero."

He let out a gruff laugh, pecking the tip of my nose, "It's good to see you too. Now, let me get changed and then maybe we can order takeout."

"Ugh, so metropolitan and adult."

"Well, we are adults in the city now." He set me back down on my feet, "Neither of us cook and it's not like we need to budget. I have two rich daddies to bankroll my lavish lifestyle."

"And I have you." I sat back down on the couch, watching him as he walked over to the bedroom, "Do you think I could afford a place like this on my own?"

The place was stunning. Murphy and I had settled on this apartment for many reasons.

The first being neither of his fathers owned the building, Murphy actually did now, so we felt more like adults. I had spent a while living with Murphy, under Daddy #1's roof, while I was effectively homeless and abandoned by both parents while in high school. You could tell that Mr. Thompson grew tired of my presence under his roof when he fixed my house up, for free, calling it an "eyesore."

Not that it did any good because Murphy and I had moved into an apartment by the time the house itself was finished.

The large windows and balcony, perfect for any hero to make a dramatic entrance were also a huge selling point. As was the pool. The private pool. And the terrace space that Murphy and I hosted ragers at.

Okay maybe not "ragers" but appropriate college to mid-twenties types of parties.

It also had the space for an art room for Murphy, a photo room for me, and two guest bedrooms. One for guests and one for Murphy and I to pretend was actually my bedroom. It's obviously not my bedroom but we must keep up the charade as we are two young and unmarried people under one roof.

Murphy had hired interior decorators to deck the place out. It looked straight out of a bougie catalogue with a few personal touches like my photos and his paintings. My mother was stunned the first time she visited.

"Alright, I am out of my suit," Murphy launched over the back of the couch, landing next to me. Slinging his arm around me, he asked, "So, thoughts on takeout?"