for @zzukai
the metal of mark’s backpack zipper clinks rapidly against the metal support pole of the subway seat he sits smashed against on the subway train. his knee bouncing in tandem to the music, the latest hot 100, blaring in his ears to drown out the excitement bubbling up from his feet and into his veins. every friday afternoon begins like this: mark crammed in the spaces nearest to the exit as he travels back from his aunt’s house in busan to the center of seoul. where he slides between two dumpsters, shedding normality to enter his second skin that reflects a deep navy blue and blood red against the glass of skyscrapers.
but today as the train pulls to a slow stop, an unrest curls in his stomach at the sight of bold letters standing out against this morning’s newspaper crinkled and open mockingly in mark’s face: WHO IS SPIDERMAN?
maybe that’s why when mark slides on his spider suit and slips into the air space much later, he doesn’t see it as much as he feels the immovable force he body slams into until he’s peeling off the metal of a dump truck and falling to the ground with a quiet thump. his eyes viewing the world in triples as he lies there in both a stupor and possibly edging death.