new heroes // jaeyong

𝑰 𝑮𝑬𝑻 𝑯𝑰𝑮𝑯 𝑶𝑭𝑭 𝑴𝒀 𝑳𝑶𝑾𝑺 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑺𝑻𝑹𝑶𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑹 𝑭𝑹𝑶𝑴 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑩𝑳𝑶𝑾𝑺

─ · · ୨୧ · · ─

To say Taeyong had a bad nights' sleep was an understatement. He was tossing and turning all night, cold sweat drenching his skin and his breath escaping his lungs in ragged pants. Yuta had actually stumbled out of bed in a feverish daze to try to shake Taeyong awake—he had been screaming.

His nightmares are rare—but when he does have them, they're horrific. Vivid visions of things that Taeyong can't even remember, things he won't remember.

The only good thing to come out of the past eight hours is that Yuta stopped hacking up mucus. Taeyong forbid him from going to work, so the younger is just sitting on the couch, wrapped in blankets, pouting.

Taeyong rubs at his red-rimmed eyes, placing a bowl of steaming porridge on the small coffee table in front of his friend.

"Eat this." Taeyong says, his voice croaky. Yuta glances at him, sniffling. His cheeks and nose are a bright red, yet his skin was still pale. He wraps the blankets tighter around his body.

"I'm cold." He whines, and Taeyong rolls his eyes, turning away to scrub profusely at the bench. It had to be squeaky clean and smelling of lavender.

"You're always cold."

"But I'm hot too."

Taeyong groans and turns on his heel to face Yuta. "Shut up, Yuta," he snaps, and the younger just defiantly glares (it doesn't look very intimidating though). The Japanese male stares back at the steaming bowl of porridge, then looks back at Taeyong.

"Can you feed me?" He asks, and Taeyong chokes on his breath.

"You're not a baby!" He splutters, his pale cheeks flushing. Yuta pouts, puffing his cheeks out.

"I am today. Please?" He whines, fluttering his eyelashes. Tayeong sighs, giving the bench a quick spray with Detol, wiping it once more, before he walks over to the couch. He squishes himself between Yuta and the arm of the couch, picking up the bowl of porridge.

He scoops a bit of it up with the spoon, and raises it to Yuta's pale lips.

"Open up," Taeyong says, and Yuta complies, chomping down on the spoon once it was in his mouth. He hums happily.

─ · · ୨୧ · · ─

Taeyong pants heavily into his mask, feeling the sweat drip down his face. He glances up at a digital clock on the side of a building—8:52am.

Fuck, he thinks to himself, I'm late.

His inner monologue is interrupted when a huge metal bin flies out of nowhere and smacks into him. He collides with the wall of a building, feeling the cement crack beneath his skin and glass prickle his flesh.

This stupid moron making him fight right before work. Did this AB not have a life? Taeyong tries to recall his name—it was like an X-Men character or something, which he found odd but you do you, he shrugged it off. Magnito, his name is. Pretty boring and ironic for an AB with magnetic powers.

Taeyong raises his gaze, letting out a prompt shriek as another metal bin flew towards him. He pushes himself out of the crater he created, his body enveloping in a familiar red glow as he lands softly on the tar road.

He eyes the cloaked figure standing before him, and Taeyong raises his arms. His arms are surrounded in red, and he slams his hands on the road. The tar cracks, the pieces of road breaking apart as it raced towards the hooded figure.

Magnito shouts in anger as the force of Taeyong's powers shoot him into the air. Taeyong grits his teeth in pain, feeling blood soaking his mask. He grips his hands into fists, the enemy's body glowing red.