9- hot sexy love triangle
the morning comes way too fast. your head is a bit heavy and your thoughts tangled somewhere between last night and whatever reality you’re supposed to return to now.
you roll over, groaning softly, and reach for your phone. you scroll through the messages from last night—half-read, half-ignored, making sure that it was all at least real,before dropping your face straight into your pillow.
“i am not emotionally stable enough for this,” you mumble into the blanket.
you let out a small, muffled scream as your bedroom door slams open and naomi bursts in. she stands there, fully awake, holding two iced coffees and some painkillers.
“you were gone for half an hour,” she starts immediately, stomping in. “then you showed up covered in grime with a broken camera and refused to explain anything. babe, i let it slide last night, but my left eyelid has been twitching all morning.” you push yourself up, hair a mess, breath still rank.
“nope.” she plops the coffee into your hand. “i come bearing caffeine and painkillers, in exchange for you telling me whatever crisis you’ve created. so. spill.now.”
you stare at her for a second and all you can do is sigh. slowly and dramatically, you reach over and plug your camera into your lap.
“…okay. but you have to promise not to freak out.”
she deadpans. “that’s not something i’m capable of.”
you reach for your camera, pulling it into your lap like it’s evidence in a trial.
past the blurry lampposts, the empty street, and the flickering light.
first at spider-man, mid-swing. red and blue blurred into motion, but still unmistakable.
naomi leans in closer blinking hard. you swipe again, nightstrike sitting on the water tower. the picture is sharper and cleaner. the moonlight catching the edges of his suit like something out of a movie.
naomi freezes just staring. no commentary or smart remarks just… staring.
“…y/n,” she says finally.
she looks up at you slowly, like her brain is buffering.
“…why do you have two superheroes in your camera roll?”
“okay so i went outside, right?” you start, sitting up straighter, words coming faster now. “and i was just taking pictures, like normally, like chill, and then i see something on a rooftop eh someone and it’s spider-man—”
naomi’s mouth drops open.
“—and i thought i was hallucinating, but then he swung, like fully swung and i uhhh chased him—”
“i chased him,” you repeat, like that’s a reasonable decision. “and i don’t know how but i ended up on a rooftop with him and we talked like actually talked—”
“and then this electric guy showed up…pulse or whatever and started trying to kill us—”
“and then he showed up,” you point aggressively at the nightstrike photo. “just dropped in like he was in a fucking movie, and they were arguing while fighting, and it was insane and i think i almost died but also it was kind of hot i won’t lie—”
“—and then they won, obviously, and then spider-man walked me home like it was no big deal and he told me not to chase him again—”
you stop and finally breathe. naomi is staring at you completely silent and you sure you look crazy.
“…say something please.” you muster out,
“no way,” she repeats, louder now. “oh my god. that’s why you took so long?!”
you throw your hands up. “yes duh !”
“two hot superheroes saved you?!”
“…they were both in masks, but i would assume so yes.”
she clutches your arm like she’s about to pass out.
you fall back onto your bed again, staring at the ceiling.
“i wish i knew.” you sigh, perking up before remembering something.
“oh and to make matters even better,” you add, staring up at the ceiling, “mark and jeno both texted me last night.”
“wait,” naomi says slowly, already reaching for your phone. “you said both boys texted you?”
you groan, rolling onto your side. “don’t—”
she’s already reading over your shoulder, eyes scanning fast, and the sound she makes is somewhere between a squeal and a full-blown scream.
“oh my god. oh my god. you are living my dream.”
“it’s not a dream,” you mumble into your pillow. “it’s a nightmare.”
and then because your luck just seems to get better, you hear an obnoxiously loud knock on the door.
naomi’s eyes go wide. “no one comes over this early.”
“don’t open it,” you say immediately, reaching out to her,.
“this is apology hours,” she whispers back, already standing. “this is someone atoning for their sins.”
“you’re not even religious what do you know about that”
“i’m absolutely opening it.” she squeals.
but it’s too late she’s already halfway down the hall, before she quickly flings the door open. you hear silence then a quiet “hi”.
you’re on your feet in seconds, heart racing as you step out of your room. and there he is in all his sickeningly fucked up glory. jeno with his bruised cheek and annoyingly cute messy hair. he looks a little tired like he was up all night, but his eyes look bright.
he’s holding a box of your favorite donuts in one hand and a small bouquet of daisies in the other. he’s standing there in front of you like he didn’t help start a war twelve hours ago.
naomi slowly turns her head locking eyes with you.
“he’s so much hotter in daylight.”
you shove past her, face warm, heart ready to burst. jeno’s eyes land on you. his expression softens instantly, something quieter replacing the usual edge.
his tries a crooked smile.
“why’re you here?” you say a bit too on edge.
he lifts the donut box slightly, like it might soften the blow.
“i figured… i owe you a real apology. not just something over text.”
you don’t smile, your eyes can’t help but flick to the bruises on his face again darker now in the daylight, harder to ignore. something in your chest pulls, but you don’t want to let it show.
“…you should come in.” you sigh under your breath and step aside.
“get to talking.” you demand.
you sit cross-legged on the couch, arms loosely folded, shoulders a little tense. jeno sits across from you, careful, like he’s afraid one wrong move will make you disappear forever.
he places the daisies down gently, then opens the donut box between you. neither of you reach for it.
“I wasn’t lying,” he starts, voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it. “about wanting to talk.”
his hands come together, fingers lacing, then unlacing again. restless.
“I messed up,” he says. “bad.”
“the party… everything i said none of that was how i actually feel. i panicked. and instead of just being honest, i turned it into something ugly.”
you tilt your head slightly.
“ugly is one word for it.”
he nods immediately, not meeting your eyes.
you let out another breath, heavier this time.
“i didn’t mean to make you feel like that,” he continues. “like you were just… something to prove a point with. you’re not…you never were.”
your jaw tightens a little.
you finally reach for a donut, more so to give your hands something to do above all else.
“…why come here?” you ask after a second.
jeno leans forward slightly, elbows on his knees.
“because i couldn’t sleep,” he admits. “every time i closed my eyes, i just kept seeing your face when you walked out.”
your fingers pause against the donut.
“and i—” he exhales shakily, like the words are stuck halfway up his throat, “—i hated knowing i did that to you.”
he looks up at you then. really looks.
it’s simple, but it lands heavier than anything else he’s said. you hold his gaze for a second, then look away.
“…i’m still mad,” you say quietly.
“and embarrassed,” you add. “and i feel kind of… stupid, honestly.”
his expression tightens immediately.
“jeno,” you cut in, softer but firm. “just let me say it.”
he stops and nods, you take a breath.
“i let myself believe that moment meant something,” you say. “and then you turned around and made it feel like it didn’t.”
“it did mean something,” he says quickly. “it still does. i just handled it in the worst way possible.”
you glance at him, searching his face like you’re trying to decide if you believe that. maybe you do and in itself feels like a problem.
you sigh, shoulders dropping slightly.
“…i don’t think i can just pretend that didn’t happen,” you admit.
he nods slowly, like he expected that.
another pause stretches between you.
you pick at the edge of the donut again, then finally say—
“…i think it’d be better if we just… kept things simple.”
his brows pull together slightly.
you nod, still not fully meeting his eyes.
the word hangs there, as his body goes rigid,.
it’s subtle, but you see it the way his shoulders tense, the way his jaw tightens just a little.
“yeah,” you say, a little more firmly now. like you’re convincing yourself as much as him. “i mean, after everything? i just—i don’t think i can do anything more than that right now.”
he nods again. slower this time.
“okay,” he says. “yeah. friends.”
he tries to force a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
you notice and try to brush it off. he stands after a second, brushing his hands on his jeans like he suddenly doesn’t know what to do with himself.
“i’ll… let you get back to your morning,” he says.
you nod,“…thanks for the donuts.”
“yeah,” he murmurs. “of course.”
he hesitates like he might say something else, but he doesn’t just gives a small nod and heads for the door. it clicks shut behind him a second later.
the apartment is too quiet, then naomi appears like she wasn’t eavesdropping.
“…friends?” she says slowly.
you drop your head back against the couch.
“FRIENDS?” she repeats, louder now. “girl, are you crazy?”
you groan, dragging a pillow over your face.
“i’m trying to save my sanity.”
“your sanity?” she scoffs. “your sanity just walked out the door like a puppy who got kicked.”
“…i’m serious.” you sigh.
“unbelievable. actually unbelievable.”
then she squints at you before smirking a bit.
“also let’s not forget, you only talked to one boy.”
you freeze, oh no. naomi smirk turns into a grin.
“one boy down,” she says, pointing at you, then raises a second finger.
you immediately shove your face back into the pillow.
“no you don’t,” she sings. “your life is like if twilight was a a rom-com with a superhero subplot.”
the weekend passes in a blur, your friends orbiting you like they’ve agreed not to let you be alone too long. there’s movies playing in the background, half-eaten snacks on the coffee table,.it’s loud and safe and at the very least, it keeps your mind from spiraling too far.
and when you do get a second to yourself late at night, when everyone’s either asleep or distracted—you find yourself with your camera in your lap, scrolling slowly through the photos from that night. you zoom in, adjust, tilt your head like maybe if you look at it long enough it’ll make sense. like something will click into place. it doesn’t but you still add a few of them to your project folder anyway.
“what we carry,” you murmur to yourself once, staring at the screen. maybe this counts.
monday comes faster than you expect, way too fast. and with everything that happened with jeno, you already know you’re not catching a ride with him. not today. maybe not for a while. so instead of piling into the car with everyone else, you opt to walk, brushing off their questions with a quick “i just need air.” it’s not even a lie this time.
the air is crisp, cool enough to wake you up but not cold enough to bite. leaves crunch softly under your sneakers, the wind tugging lightly at your sweatshirt as you make your way across campus. it’s quiet in a way that feels… needed. like your brain finally has space to stretch out after everything. by the time you reach your building, your shoulders feel a little less tight not better, just steadier.
you slip into your seat right on time, dropping your bag beside you and pulling out your notebook. your eyes scan the room without thinking, and you notice it immediately, jeno isn’t there. your chest does a weird little thing at that, but you ignore it, because mark sits next to you. he’s hunched slightly over his desk, pen tapping restlessly against his paper again and again.
you look away before he can catch you staring. the professor starts talking, launching into a lecture that usually would’ve held your attention, but today the words just slide past you. your pen moves half-heartedly across the page, but you couldn’t tell anyone what you’re actually writing. your mind drifts to the rooftop, to the voice, to jeno standing in your doorway with daisies and that almost-smile. and somehow, it always circles back to mark.
you blink, trying to refocus and that’s when something lands softly on your desk. a folded piece of paper.
your heart can’t help but stutter.you glance sideways. mark doesn’t look at you, not even a little, just staring straight ahead like he had nothing to do with it. his pen stills in his hand.
you swallow, then unfold the note carefully, shielding it with your arm.
“meet me @ the greenhouse after class. please.”
your eyes linger on the last word longer than they should. please.
you exhale slowly, staring at it while your thoughts start piling up again. you shouldn’t. you probably shouldn’t, but your hand is already moving.
you flip the paper over and scribble back a quick reply.
you slide it across when the professor turns to the board. this time, mark’s hand is there almost instantly to take it. yet be still doesn’t look at you but his shoulders drop, just slightly, like something in him loosens.
the rest of class blurs together after that. by the time it ends, your notebook is filled with half-finished sentences and doodles. you pack your bag slower than usual, watching people file out one by one.
mark’s already gone which of course he is.
you hesitate for half a second, then zip your bag shut. your journalism class can wait. this… probably can’t.
you head across campus, the greenhouse coming into view behind the old art building, its glass panels catching the soft gold of the fall sun. your pulse picks up the closer you get, your chest starting to tighten.
the greenhouse is warmer than you expect. quiet, too like so obvious that the rest of the campus forgot it existed. dust clings to the corners of old planters that makes everything feel slower.
when you walk in, mark’s already inside.
he’s sitting on the edge of one of the planter benches, head tilted back slightly like he was watching the light before you walked in. his jacket’s tossed beside him, shirt sleeves pushed up, and for once he doesn’t look put together.
the door clicks shut behind you, and he looks over immediately straightening, standing like he didn’t expect you to actually show up.
you don’t move closer right away. just walk in slowly, arms crossed, eyes flicking around the space instead of settling on him.
“this is a weird spot for a meetup,” you say.
he huffs quietly. “it’s quiet.”
“and kind of creepy,” you add.
“…didn’t think about that.”
that pulls a small, unexpected smile out of you, but it fades just as quickly as it came.
silence settles between you again.
you nod once but don’t let him off easy.
he shifts his weight, like he expected that.
“for the party,” he says. “for not saying anything. for walking out when things got messy instead of he cuts himself off, jaw tightening slightly. “—instead of staying.”
“you’ve been doing a lot of that.”
he doesn’t argue. doesn’t deflect. just… takes it.
you study him for a second, the way the light hits his face, the way his fingers twitch like he doesn’t know what to do with them.
“…i don’t get it,” you say.
“you,” you answer, finally looking at him fully. “one second you’re there, and the next you’re just… gone. like you vanish.”
his shoulders stiffen, you catch it.
you keep going, softer now.
“even this free class . you left before anyone else and now you’re here before me somehow.” you frown slightly. “i walked straight here, mark.“how do you always get places so fast?”
the question hangs in the air a second too long.
his gaze flickers his eyes trying to avoid yours.
“i just… move quick, i guess,” he says, a little too casual.
you don’t look convinced, but of course you let it go for now at least.
“the night we met and you followed me to the balcony..”
your brows pull together slightly. “i don’t remember much of it.”
something about the way he says it makes you really pay attention to him. you glance at him again.
“we talked a lot,” he continues. “you said things that really stuck to me.”
“things that made me think i should stop running away from everything in general.”
your breath catches, just a little.
he takes a slow step close
“i don’t know what’s going on between you and jeno,” he says. “and i’m not here to compete with him.” a pause. “i just wanted you to know i’m trying.”
he lets out a small, breathless laugh, running a hand through his hair.
“to stop hiding,” he admits. “i’m just… not good at this.”
he gestures vaguely between the two of you.
“i’ve always been the background guy, easy going and forgettable.” he shrugs, but it doesn’t quite land. “but with you, it’s—”
“you’re not forgettable.”
the words come out before you can overthink them. he looks up and really looks at you.
you step a little closer, closing some of the space between you.
“i don’t need a perfect explanation,” you say quietly. “you just… have go to stop disappearing on me. so much ”
it’s quiet for a bit longer before you can get your sentence out about needing to go home — he cuts you off.
“can i walk you home?” he asks.
you hesitate for half a second, then nod.
mark walks beside you matching your pace so naturally it almost feels automatic like he’s done this a hundred times before, or maybe just thought about it enough that it comes easy now. your shoulders brush once, lightly, and neither of you comments on it.
for the first few minutes, you walk in silence.
it’s not awkward just…the kind of quiet that lets your thoughts settle instead of spiral. leaves crunch under your shoes, the wind weaving softly through the trees lining the sidewalk.
“i used to walk this route every day,” you say, glancing ahead. “back in elementary school. before i moved.”
mark looks over, a little surprised. “really?”
you nod, a small smile pulling at your lips. “yeah. this path cuts through where my old bus stop used to be. every friday, i’d drag johnny to that corner bakery and beg him to buy me strawberry milk for us to share .”
he lets out a soft laugh. “i cannot picture johnny sharing anything.”
“he didn’t,” you say immediately. “i cried until he felt guilty.”
that earns a real laugh from him, warmer this time. “that tracks.”
you both smile, and for a second it feels easy. simple.
mark glances down briefly, noticing the way your hands are shoved into your pockets, fingers shifting restlessly like they don’t know where to land.
you step over a crack in the sidewalk, exhaling quietly. then, almost without thinking
“i actually talked to jeno this weekend.”
“yeah?” he asks, tone careful.
“yeah. he came by and apologized.” you shrug a little. “explained himself. brought donuts.”
mark hums under his breath. “classic move.”
you glance at him. “what, the apology or the donuts?”
“the donuts,” he says. “the apology’s rare.”
you huff out a quiet laugh, nudging a loose leaf out of your path with your shoe. then you look at him sideways.
“you two really don’t get along, huh?”
he exhales through his nose, gaze dropping to the ground for a second. “it’s… complicated.”
he shakes his head slightly, like the answer is obvious. “because he’s jeno.”
you hum, not fully satisfied with that.
he kicks a small pebble forward, watching it skip across the pavement before continuing.
“we’ve always been compared,” he says after a moment. “jeno’s good at everything. he’s loud, confident… people look at him and just like him. it’s easy.”
you glance at him, expression softening.
“and me,” he continues, a little quieter now, “i’ve always just been… there reliable…safe.”
you frown slightly. “i don’t think ‘safe’ is a bad thing.”
he lets out a small, humorless breath. “it is when it feels like people forget you’re even in the room.”.
the sun catches his face just then, warm and golden, and for a second he looks almost unsure of himself like he didn’t mean to say that out loud.
you nudge his elbow gently.
he doesn’t look at you right away, but you see the way his throat moves when he swallows, the way his shoulders tense and then ease.
“i think sometimes… being quiet makes people assume you don’t feel things as strongly,” you add after a moment. “but it’s the opposite, isn’t it?”
mark nods slowly. “yeah. exactly.”
the wind picks up again, tugging your hair across your face. you reach up, tucking it behind your ear, and catch him watching you for just a second before he looks away like he didn’t mean to.
you’re nearing your building now, the familiar entrance coming into view, when he speaks again.
you glance at him. “for what?”
“for showing up today.” he shrugs lightly, but there’s something more underneath it. “i know i’ve been… off. weird, even. you didn’t have to come.”
you slow your steps slightly.
“i mean it,” he adds quickly. “you don’t owe me anything. so… it means something that you still did.”
you study him for a second, then smile.
“you’re not weird, mark.”
you tilt your head, pretending to think. “okay, maybe a little.”
that pulls a surprised laugh out of him, and something about the sound settles warm in your chest.
“but i think i like that about you,” you finish.
he shakes his head, a small smile lingering as he exhales.
you reach your door, stopping just before it. there’s a pause, like neither of you is in a rush to break the moment.
then he steps back, giving you space.
you turn toward the door, hand brushing the handle—
his expression shifts, something quieter slipping through.
“…you really don’t forget me?”
he nods slowly, and then you slip inside, the door clicking shut behind you. your heartbeat doesn’t settle for a while.
the apartment smells like popcorn and your favorite strawberry shampoo. naomi’s already claimed the couch, hair wrapped up in a towel, a bright green sheet mask smoothed over her face.
you kick off your shoes, shrugging out of your jacket and tossing it aside before collapsing next to her. at some point, you end up in an oversized sweatshirt, definitely not yours, probably johnny’s and there’s a half-open bag of gummy worms between you.
for a minute, it’s quiet only the low hum of the tv, the rustle of gummy bear bag, the kind of peaceful that feels almost earned after the last few days of madness.
before you can get comfortable naomi speaks up.
you turn your head slowly. “…what?”
naomi doesn’t even look at you at first, just reaches up and starts peeling off her sheet mask slowly.
“what the hell are you gonna do about your stupid hot love triangle?”
“don’t play dumb,” she says, finally turning to you, mask now dangling from her fingers. “we’ve got two men, unresolved tension, a public fight, and you—” she points right at you, “—just walking around like this isn’t the main plot of a romcom.”
you groan, dragging a hand over your face. “naomi please”
“no, i’m serious.” she sits up, crossing her legs. “we need to evaluate.”
you sigh, already knowing this is happening whether you participate or not.
“exhibit a: jeno. motorcycles, horrible decisions, but he’s sexy.’ also showed up with donuts and a half-decent apology. emotionally constipated, but soooo clearly into you.”
you raise an eyebrow. “looks like you’ve found a hobby in this.”
“i am invested,” she says firmly. “this affects me too.”
she shifts, immediately launching into the next point.
“exhibit b: mark. quiet. broody in a ‘doesn’t realize he’s broody’ way, avoids eye contact like it’s a sport. probably overthinks everything you say and then replays it later.”
you open your mouth. “that’s not—
you freeze for half a second… just a second.
then roll your eyes, grabbing a gummy worm to avoid responding. “you’re dramatizing it.”
“it’s not a triangle,” you mutter.
“it is absolutely a triangle.”
“i barely did anything jeno—”
“with your shirt off,” she adds immediately.
you glare at her. “and nothing has happened with mark.”
“what?” she leans closer, squinting at you. “you think about him, don’t you?”
you look away, suddenly very interested in the sleeve of the sweatshirt, fingers tugging at the fabric.
“…i don’t know,” you mumble. “maybe. it’s just—i don’t know what any of this is.”
she doesn’t interrupt this time. just watches you.
you sigh, letting your head fall back against the couch.
“jeno makes me feel…” you pause, searching for it. “like i can say whatever i want and it doesn’t matter. like i don’t have to think too hard.”
“yeah,” you admit. “a little.”
you swallow, then add quieter,
“and mark makes me feel like… i have to think about everything. like every single word matters.”
naomi’s expression shifts, a little softer now.
you shake your head slowly.
“…no. just… in a different way.”
you hesitate, then say it anyway.
“like if i told him the worst parts of me… he wouldn’t run ironically enough.”
naomi leans back dramatically, throwing her head against the couch.
“oh my god,” she groans. “that is so emotionally devastating. i hate it that i love it.”
you laugh despite yourself, grabbing another gummy worm and tossing it at her.
“it’s supposed to be,” she says, catching it midair and eating it. “if it wasn’t messy, it wouldn’t be interesting.”
you sigh, sinking deeper into the cushions.
naomi shrugs like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
“then we spiral, drink something cheap, and block everyone until 2065.”
you huff a quiet laugh. “that’s not comforting.”
she nudges your shoulder with hers.
“but until then? just be honest. if it’s not with them” she points at you, “at least be with yourself.”
you go quiet at that, staring up at the ceiling. the room settles again, everything feeling… still.
after a minute, naomi casually grabs her phone, scrolling like she didn’t just psychoanalyze your entire life.
“so,” she says lightly, “where are we leaning?”
“mm.” she tilts her head. “team sexy motorcycle boy… or team emotionally unavailable dork?”
you sit up immediately. “i am not calling them that.”
“too late,” she says, not even looking up. “already named them in the group chat.”
you stare at her in horror.
“what? branding matters.”
you spend most of the night staring at your ceiling.
not sleeping. not really thinking in a straight line either—just… circling.
jeno’s face when he said “friends.”
the way it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
mark’s voice in the greenhouse.
the walk, the quiet, the way it felt easy and complicated at the same time.
you roll onto your side with a groan, dragging your blanket over your head like that might muffle your thoughts.
“okay,” you mumble into the fabric. “what are we doing.”
you sigh, staring at your phone on the nightstand like it might light up and make the decision for you.
“…cool,” you mutter. “love that for me.”
you turn onto your back again, exhaling slowly.
“jeno is… jeno,” you say to no one. “and mark is… mark.”
you press your palms over your eyes.
“i told one i want to be friends,” you continue, quieter now. “and the other… i don’t even know what that is.”
that’s the problem, there’s no label it’s just… something.
you groan again, louder this time.
you sit up slightly, like saying it out loud makes it official.
you think about it for a bit.
“…that’s healthy. probably.yeah all i need is space so i can gain some clarity. or i spiral again one of the two.”
the next morning, you fully commit to the avoidance. no eye contact and no lingering convos. this is totally simple and easy …in theory of course.
you slide into your seat next to mark with the grace of a raccoon trying not to be perceived, dropping your bag a little too quickly and immediately pulling out your notes like they’re a shield.
“morning,” he says, soft and careful.
“mmhm,” you hum, not looking at him.
mark doesn’t push really push thought, doesn’t even try to fill the silence or force a conversation. which somehow makes you feel. you can feel him there, just… existing next to you, and it takes everything in you not to glance over.
you last about ten minutes. you fight with yourself a bit before taking a quick look. one look one hurt right? that’s it. but you come to regret it because he’s already looking at you.
not intense in a scary way. just… focused. like he’s trying to read something he doesn’t fully understand. you snap your gaze forward so fast you almost get whiplash. totally normal behavior.
for the rest of the lecture, don’t look again.
by the time class ends, you’re halfway out of your seat before the professor even finishes the last sentence. you’re so close to freedom you can almost taste its.
maybe if you don’t move… he won’t see you…
jeno appears at your side like he teleported, helmet tucked under one arm, hoodie slung over his shoulder. the bruises from before have mostly faded, but they’re still there if you look close enough.
you start walking again immediately.
he falls into step beside you easily.
“you’re speed-walking like you owe the mob money.”
he snorts quietly. “uh-huh.”
he studies you for a second, then tilts his head slightly.
“…avoiding me and mark?” he asks, almost amused. “damn. should i be flattered or offended?”
you stop and he stops too.
you turn to him, arms crossing automatically.
“you skipped class yesterday, by the way.”
he blinks, caught off guard by the switch. “i was sick.”
you squint at him. “…okayyy.”
he huffs a small laugh, shaking his head. “i actually was.”
you hesitate, which is an answer in itself.
jeno nods once, slow, like he’s processing it but not pushing back.
“okay,” he says. he doesn’t have an attitude, no hint of teasing this time. just quiet. “just… don’t shut me out completely, yeah?”
you nod, because that feels easier than answering properly.
he steps back a little, giving you space that you immediately take. you turn and walk, then speed up, then very quickly turn that into a full-on jog.
by the time you’re off campus, your brain feels like it’s been running laps. well your legs have at least you’re done and tired.
classes felt too long, your friends were asking too many questions, and actively avoiding two very persistent, very attractive men is apparently a full-time job.
you take the long way home, headphones in, camera hanging from your neck, the familiar weight of it grounding.
this route is quieter. winding past side streets, rooftops, late cafés just starting to open. the kind of place where the city feels slower.
you exhale, finally letting your shoulders drop.
“peace at least,” you murmur under your breath.
no boys and no emotionally draining tension.
just you, your music, and the soft click of your camera as you lift it absentmindedly and snap a picture of a pigeon.
for the first time all day, your head feels quiet. so quiet you don’t even remember turning down this rinky dink street. your feet are moving on autopilot, hands shoved deep into your pockets, camera bouncing lightly against your hip with every step.
you groan under your breath, dragging a hand over your face. “oh my god,” you mutter, voice rough. “i need a cigarette.”
you exhale sharply, kicking a loose pebble out of your way. “what is going on in my life…”
by the time you pay attention again , you’ve already cut into the alley. you don’t think about it you just keep walking. head down and mind in the clouds. which is why you don’t notice them right away.
you stop, and look up a cold chill goes down your spine. three older looking guy, one leaning against the wall, two a little too comfortably in your path.your stomach drops but you try to not let you face doesn’t show it.
“…can i help you?” you ask flatly.
one of them grins, pushing off the wall. “maybe? you look lost little lady.”
“ya sure?” another one adds, eyes dragging over you in a way that makes your skin crawl. “this isn’t really a ‘walk alone’ kinda place.”
you shift your weight, already irritated. “good thing i didn’t ask for your opinion.”
“damn,” one of them says. “she’s got an attitude on her.”
“cool,” you cut in, already stepping to move around them. “you can like it from over there. i’m not interested, so from the bottom of my heart please fuck off.”
maybe you should learn to shut your mouth because one of them steps in your way again, this time not even pretending. “no need to be a bitch about it.”
you stop trying to hold your ground.
“and there’s no need for you to be in my fucking way,” you shoot back. “move.”
he doesn’t. instead, he leans so close you can smell the stench of alcohol from his breath.
“we’re just talking sweetheart.”
“i’m not,” you snap. “so please for the 100th time move.”
another one scoffs. “relax. we’re being nice.”
“no,” you say, voice sharp now. “you’re being fucking annoying. there’s a stark difference.”
“watch your mouth.” one of them spits out
your feel your heart kick up, hard, but you’re really not in the mood to back down.
uh oh wrong move. you see it the second his expression changes. the air goes tight, heavy. he steps closer to you your pulse spikes, instincts screaming now—
“you think you’re funny?” he says.
you don’t answer. try to calculate exactly how to get yourself out this situation. his hand twitches like he’s about to reach for your hair then-
you hear a familiar thwip..
a red-and-blue blur drops between you and them so fast you barely register it, landing low and solid.
“wow,” spider-man says, straightening slowly. “three against one? that’s not very fair.”
the guys hesitate, but get rowdier.
“mind your business,” one of them snaps.
spider-man tilts his head. “i am. she’s my business now.”
then all hell breaks loose, one of them lunges and spider-man moves faster. a sharp dodge, a quick web thwip and suddenly that guy’s stuck to the wall like a very confused decoration.
“okay,” spider-man says lightly. “one down.. two more idiots to go.”
another swings. he ducks, pivots, lands a clean hit that sends the guy stumbling back.
the third gets ready to turn around and bolt.
“yeah,” spider-man nods at him. “that’s the correct response.”
but decides to turn back around and take his chances, big mistake. a quick web to the legs and he hits the ground hard.
“and that’s three,” spider-man says, brushing his hands together. “STRIKEE. i’m getting faster.”
the alley goes quiet you’re still standing there your heartbeat pounding in your ears.
spider-man turns to you immediately and
“hey,” he says, gently. “you okay?”
you blink, your brain still catching up. “…yeah,” you say, a little breathless. “i—yeah.”
he studies you for a second. “…you sure?”
you nod, swallowing. “i’m fine. just—” you let out a shaky exhale. “they were annoying.”
“that’s one word for it.”
you huff a small laugh despite yourself. “…thanks.”
“don’t mention it,” he says. “it’s like kind of my job.”
you drag a hand through your hair.
“you’re telling me,” he says. “i’m a guy fighting crime in a spandex costume.”
you snort softly, then glance toward the end of the alley. “…i was just trying to get home.”
“i see that.. lets try an avoid dark alleys next time”
you roll your eyes. “okay, relax. i didn’t expect to get jumped.”
“fair. but maybe… less alley, more well-lit public street?”
he looks toward the open end of the alley, then back at you, like he’s deciding something.
“…actually,” he says, a little quieter, “let’s not risk it again.”
“faster this way,” he adds quickly.
“…you just want an excuse.”
“i always want an excuse.”
“and yet, here i am. saving your life and providing free transportation.”
before you can argue with the masked man, he steps closer, his arm wraps around your waist, steady, familiar now but it still makes your breath hitch a little.
“i’ve got you,” he says, softer.
the ground disappears. you gasp, hands gripping onto him instantly as the alley drops away and the city opens up beneath you, wind rushing past your ears.
it’s not your first time, but it still hits the same the rush. the way your stomach flips like you left it somewhere three buildings back.
“oh my god—” you laugh, breath catching as he swings. “i don’t know how you get used to this—”
“i don’t,” he calls back easily. “i just pretend i’m not terrified.”
you snort, clinging a little tighter as you arc through the air again.
you peek down this time, watching the lights blur beneath you, the city stretching out in a way that makes everything feel smaller for a second.
“…okay,” you breathe, half-laughing. “still insane. definitely still insane.”
“…yeah,” you admit. “good insane.”
he laughs, softer now, as he swings again—smooth, effortless. everything behind you two fades, the noise in your head steadys, replaced by wind and motion and the steady hold of him keeping you grounded.
by the time he lands lightly in front of your building, setting you down like it’s nothing. your head is spinning again, all you can do it stare at the masked man.
“…seriously hat is my life,” you mutter.
“at least it’s never boring.”
you huff out a small laugh, still catching your breath.
you step back toward your door, still looking at him like you’re trying to figure something out.
“…you’re insane, by the way.”
“i’ve been called worse.”
you shake your head, a small smile slipping through.
“…goodnight, spider-man.”
you slip inside, closing the door behind you, and immediately drop your head back against it.you let out a long, exhausted breath.
“…yeah,” you mumble. “i’m losing my mind.”
the fall days start to melt into one another. you are forever grateful to have your group by your side through all the hustle and bustle. it’s always been jisung, chenle, jaemin, naomi, and you. and that’s exactly why jeno sneaking his way into it feels so… ridiculous.
“why is he here again?” chenle says flatly, not even bothering to lower his voice.
jeno, who is literally sitting on the armrest next to him, doesn’t even flinch. “wow. hostile environment much.”
you freeze mid-sip. “…i did not invite him per say .”
jeno points at you. “you didn’t not invite me.”
“that’s not how invitations work.” jisung says
jaemin hums from the floor. “he brought food.”
“he brought one bag of chips,” you say.
“family-sized,” jeno corrects.
“you already ate half of it.”
“it’s not sharing, if all the crumbs are on your face.”
naomi leans over to you, whispering loudly, “i think he’s imprinting.”
you snort, naomi loves a good twilight reference.
jeno grins like he heard it. “i just go where i’m appreciated.”
“then you’re in the wrong place,” chenle shoots back.
“and yet,” jeno says, stretching his arms behind his head, way too comfortable, “here i am.”
it of course starts like that.
annoying and persistent. very jeno.
he shows up once, twice, then suddenly he’s just… around.
“did you tell him we’d be here?” you ask naomi one day, watching jeno walk into the café like he’s on a schedule.
jaemin shrugs. “he texted me.”
you turn slowly. “…why does he have your number?”
“and you gave it to him?”
jeno fits in almost easily.
he brings snacks, he offers rides, and inserts himself into conversations like he’s been part of them from the beginning.
and the worst part? it works.
“okay but you’re actually wrong,” chenle says, pointing at him from across the table.
“i’m literally not,” jeno shoots back.
you watch them go back and forth, blinking slowly.
“…when did this happen?” you mutter.
naomi leans against you. “i don’t know, but it’s kind of entertaining.”
“he’s not supposed to be bonding,” you whisper. “he’s supposed to be temporary.”
“too late,” she says. “he’s in the ecosystem now.”
and then there are these small moments you two share.
“move,” you tell jeno, trying to grab your drink from the counter.
you shove him lightly. “you’re so—”
he catches your wrist without thinking, just for a split second. long enough for both of you to notice. there’s a short pause before his grip loosens, but his eyes don’t.
“…you were saying?” he murmurs.
you pull your hand back like it didn’t.
that’s still the label, it’s what you both agreed on. and technically, that’s what it is. but it’s starting to get blurry again.
too much eye contact, too much teasing that flys to close to the sun. too many moments where it feels like you’re both about to say something and then don’t. and on top of that now he’s found a way to tangle himself into your friend group
which makes everything ten times more complicated than they were before.
mark lee exists in a completely different orbit. things are a bit steadier, still a bit quiet but somehow more present.
“you came,” he says one afternoon when you show up at his and johnny’s place, like he’s been waiting for you.
you blink confused. “…i said i would.”
“i know. i just—” he shrugs. “you don’t always.”
you tilt your head. “are you keeping track lee?”
you laugh softly, dropping your bag by the couch. “that’s a little embarrassing.”
“yeah,” he admits, smiling a little. “i know.”
with mark, it’s never feels like too much.
he still has his habit of disappearing but now he tries to make it up to you in his own mark way.
you notice it more about him when johnny leaves and it’s just the two of you.
“you’re doing that thing again,” you tell him one night, watching him hesitate mid-sentence.
he frowns slightly. “what thing?”
“thinking too hard before you talk.”
“you are doing it as speak.”
he exhales, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “…i just don’t want to say the wrong thing.”
you can’t help but smile at that
he looks at you and his face says he might just believe that.
so now between jeno becoming a permanent fixture in your friend group and mark finding quieter ways to stay close—
your life just keeps… staying busy.
your project slowly comes together in the middle of all of it. piece by piece.
you spend hours on your floor, camera beside you, laptop open, editing photos until your eyes blur and you’re slumped over .
“you’ve been staring at that same picture for ten minutes,” naomi says, walking past you.
“because it’s bad,” you groan. “they’re all awful .”
“you’re being a drama queen.” she insists
you sigh. “…you know who.”
you scroll through your camera roll, showing her. blurry shots. half-missed frames. flashes of red and blue that never quite land the way you want them to.
“i’ve literally been this close to him,” you say, frustrated. “multiple times. and i still don’t have a good picture.”
naomi crouches next to you, squinting at your screen.
“this is actually quite tragic.”
“like, you’ve been swung through the city TWICE and this is what you got?”
she looks at you, then back at the photos.
“…so go get a better one.”
she shrugs. “you have a weird habit of running into him.”
“…that’s not a habit, that’s a problem.”
you groan, dropping your head back against the couch. because somehow between jeno, who refuses to stay in his lane.. and mark, who’s slowly but surely making your heart fluster,and a masked vigilante you still can’t get a clear picture of you’re as good as troubled.
“…i hate it here,” you mumble.
naomi pats your head. “no you don’t.”
annaxmalina
baratheonpilled
tangentwithtanner
titsay
kaledo-art
vaporwave
andulkaphoto
