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Wooyoung has never been so glad it's the weekend. Hongjoong had reported late last night that there were no upcoming missions, and while Wooyoung has to shoot a commercial with the creators of an up-coming amusement park ride later this evening, he's happy to have the first half of the day to himself. Because fuck, does he need it.

His suit's made from a state of the art Zium Steel, which was tailored to him and was made to work alongside his three zias. And even though it's excellent at protecting him from life-threatening internal damage, it doesn't prevent the suit from needing a few updates, mostly on the design.

So when Wooyoung's bleary eyes open and a brief whirring sound is heard from above, it doesn't faze him, as it's probably Hongjoong and a few other technicians from the Headquarters, sharpening up his suit for further use.

Wooyoung just spends a minute snuggled under his cozy, thick covers, staring blanking at the twinkling, swirling lights on the ceiling. Yes, his lights twirl, looking like miniature fireworks due to the colours they emit, and while they don't really do anything else, Wooyoung got them installed because they looked really cool and because they clear his thoughts for a while.

Wooyoung rolls to the other side, and as his bed is more than big enough for two, he filled the extra space with a couple plushies. They're nothing compared to a warm human body, but he figured they'd have to work for now.

Wooyoung kind of just wants to sleep, but he can't. Once he's awake there's no going back, and that can be linked to his never-ending schedule that he's gotten familiarized with for the past four years, ever since he graduated as a top hero. His almost daily service to the public has built up his reputation and earned him a spot on one of the most beloved superheroes in a long while, but he'd lost a lot of sleep and free time to get where he is, not to mention the reduced privacy he keeps battling with as well.

He sighs. The thoughts are back again, storming his head and erasing the little relaxation he'd had. He thinks about his missions, thinks about his powers and the entire team working behind the scenes to advance him and how afraid he is to fail or disappoint them. He thinks of his parents and his older sister who he never got to know much of and how grim memories of them haunted him still.

Then, he's back to that cloudy Wednesday morning, raindrops rolling down his brows and the stench of heavy mildew in the air as he peered down at that masked man, those heated amber eyes of his shooting daggers right at him.

Now, Wooyoung's no stranger to dirty looks as his career basically involves taking down bad guys and ridding the streets of crime, but that look in the guy's eyes is one Wooyoung doesn't think he can ever forget, even if it kills him. He shuts his eyes and all that's on his mind is that man -- that villain, and the mask the shielded half his face.

Wooyoung, with all the villains and hooligans he's encountered in his lifetime, has never met someone quite like this guy. And while he was positive the masked man wanted to kill him, something buried deep inside him made him want to give the guy the benefit of the doubt. He looked young, just about Wooyoung's age, and although the jagged mask protected some of his face from view, his features told Wooyoung all he needed to know. And Wooyoung isn't blind.

The man was handsome.

I've truly lost it. Wooyoung can't believe his train of thoughts have led him here. He's had weird thoughts, maddening thoughts to downright horrid ones that kept him up at night, but this has got to be the most insane one yet.

Wooyoung throws his heap of blankets to the side, his pyjamas and socked feet exposed to the lukewarm air. Wooyoung had been much too tired yesterday to switch on the air-con, but now he's glad he hadn't because he doesn't know how he'd deal with a freezing cold room first thing in the morning.

He slowly sits up, stretching his weary joints. Without the suit, his crime fighting endeavours often leave him with some body aches. The blinds on the floor-to-ceiling windows in his room have already been pulled apart, exposing an expanse of green hills, glittering sapphire waterfalls and a cloudless blue sky that Wooyoung can't appreciate because his eyesight isn't the best right now.

While contacts are Wooyoung's go-to more than half the time, he's in the mood for glasses this time around.

Crawling over his bed to his dresser, he fumbles for those thick black ones that enhance his vision a thousand-fold, and now he can see himself on the life-sized mirror a few feet away.

His black hair's all mussed up, looking very much like a bird's nest. Wooyoung tries patting it down, but the strands are too stubborn. His previous silvery grey eyes are now a milder form of the colour, looking just as annoyed as Wooyoung feels at his crazy bed-head.

"Wonder what that guy looks like when he wakes up. Does he sleep with that mask on? I doubt it," Wooyoung says out loud before he can filter out his thoughts. He wants to slap himself.

"Don't think about him, don't think about him, don't think about him," Wooyoung mumbles over and over as he heads for the shower.

His bathroom's a bit advanced, looking more like a luxurious suite rather than a place where he bathes, shits and brushes his teeth. The shower beeps as it recognizes his DNA, spinning open just as Wooyoung kicks off the last of his clothes.

Wooyoung might be a superhero, but when he isn't fighting criminals, he's lazy as fuck. So when he steps into the extensive shower, he just gets the gadgets do their thing and clean him up, groaning in relief when mechanical hands massage his hair with shampoo.

When he closes his eyes he can almost imagine the mechanical hands as real, living ones that rub into his hair, slow and gentle. A chill races down Wooyoung's spine, images of the villain's hands that he'd pinned down filling his mind's eye. Those hands were gloved, but they looked powerful. Fuck.

Wooyoung stops showering soon after that.

He really doesn't want to spend his rare free time holed up in his room, so after pulling on a hoodie and ripped jeans, he speeds down the spiralling staircase and makes himself his most favourite lazy meal: Cereal. Spoon in his mouth, he notices how quiet the room is, and as always, it disconcerts him. He's never been a fan of silence, because silence makes him feel powerless, makes him feel weak and vulnerable.

So Wooyoung shoves a spoonful of cereal into his mouth and dashes back up the stairs, making it to the top lair in a matter of seconds.

The lair's just another name for the tech room, two guys plus Hongjoong bustling about his hero suit and soon pushing it into some tube emitting a type of blue gas.

"Morning," Wooyoung greets, slurping another spoonful of cereal. Hongjoong turns up his nose in disgust, like he doesn't do the same with his ramen and coffee.

The technicians greet him as well, and when Wooyoung closes up on Hongjoong, the older hands him a tablet. It shows a 3D outline of his suit, the torso and shoulders lit up in a pale yellow.

"Those areas took quite a hit so they're in need of fixing up," Hongjoong drawls, sounding bored out of his mind. If Wooyoung hadn't known Hongjoong at all, he would've assumed the older didn't have a deep-rooted love for all things technological, which he most definitely does. "The bar you see at the top left is its progress so far. I dumbed it down so you'd get it."

"Meanie." Wooyoung playfully punches Hongjoong's arm, to which the man overdramatically winces at even though Wooyoung made sure to hit him as lightly as possible.

He glances at the 72% and chews his lip, already done with his cereal. "It's been a while."

"What's been a while?" Hongjoong mutters, a bit distracted with the keyboard he's typing on.

"Going out, chilling. Relaxing," Wooyoung adds after a beat. He places the tablet on the table and shoves his hands into his pockets.

Hongjoong hums in understanding, all swaddled up in his giant turquoise sweater and beanie and more than comfortable on his spinning chair. The older's always been a home-body though, so it doesn't really make Wooyoung feel any better.

"You can head out, you know?" Hongjoong states. "No schedules today except the amusement park shoot tonight, so you're free for the time being."

"I know." But what if something comes up again? What if someone needs my help? Wooyoung doesn't make these worries known, but a glance at Wooyoung's reflection from their location sphere wall tells Hongjoong everything.

"Look, if I get a call from the Headquarters, I'll convince them to send some other hero, hm? I won't let them ruin your free time."

"Really, hyung?"

"Yes, now get out of here. And take your cereal bowl with you."

Wooyoung does as Hongjoong asks, bolting out the door without a moment's notice. After dropping the bowl into the dishwasher, he sprints to brush his teeth and style his hair, making a simple middle part instead of the more elegant side parting he usually does when he's The Golden Clover.

Almost drowning in his dark graphic hoodie and ripped jeans, Wooyoung looks less like a famous superhero and more like Jung Wooyoung, a guy who loves sleeping in (even when he just can't at times), has pretty bad eyesight and bawls his eyes out to cheesy chick flicks. He's also shorter now, as his suit adds a few more inches to his height, and his hoodie completely hides his toned build. Like this, he doesn't even look twenty-four.

He sprays on some cologne, tapping his watch as he exits out his and Hongjoong's shared manor. "I'm leaving now."

"Don't get into trouble," Hongjoong replies back after a second.

"Bye," Wooyoung comments, choosing to ignore that sentence.

Excitement brewing within, Wooyoung skips over the expensive cars he could use, opting to take public transport as a way to connect with the general public once more. It's also for nostalgia's sake, as there'd been a time he didn't even have a house he could call home.

The bus driver barely pays him a glance as he searches for a free seat, finding a comfortable one by the window. The scenery's nice, full of healthy trees and neat, symmetrical houses. Wooyoung pulls out his phone and airpods, blasting his Brown Noise playlist in order to free his mind from thinking too much.

The bus moves, the roads empty and smooth enough to provide an easy journey, and after a while Wooyoung leans into his seat, eyelids heavy at the gentle lull of the drive. I can get used to this.

He's about to get some shut-eye when the bus comes to a halt, footsteps soon shuffling in.

"...No can do. Bus fare from Mist Avenue to Treasure Heights just increased. Sorry, but no money, no entrance."

Wooyoung's eyes open, and he isn't alone in watching to see what the commotion's all about. The bus driver's glaring down at some guy at the doorway, a cap and hood pulled over his face. Wooyoung doesn't know why, but then he remembers what happened on Wednesday as the guy's attire is weirdly similar. Wooyoung also can't bear to see anyone in need, his protective side winning over in a matter of seconds.

Before he knows it, he's on his feet. Don't get into trouble. But Wooyoung's just trying to be a good person.

Hands in his pockets and channelling The Golden Clover's confidence, he strides up to the driver, glancing over at the hooded guy in the process. As soon as he does though, the guy looks down, as if hiding his face from him.

"I'll pay," Wooyoung states, coolly passing over his card. He doesn't know who he's trying to impress here, but he has this weird urge to keep his composure.

The driver's brows rise, but he says nothing. The hooded guy heads for a front seat without as much as a 'thanks', arm grazing Wooyoung's on the way. A spark sizzles up Wooyoung's skin at the contact, and his eyes can't help but follow the guy. He's pressed against the window, nothing but his chin exposed as he nibbles on his bottom lip. He's fiddling with his bag's straps.

Wooyoung, obtaining his card back, decides to sit right behind the man. He's not being creepy, he just wants a 'thank you' for his good deed.

The bus starts up again, and a minute passes before Wooyoung gathers up the courage to tap the guy's back. He might be wearing a worn hoodie, but it's clear he's got some wide shoulders.

The guy doesn't react, and Wooyoung ponders over the possibility that the guy just didn't feel it, only for the man to turn just a bit, his left cheekbone and nose catching in the light. He looks quite irked.

"What?" The guy speaks, which Wooyoung does not bargain for. His voice is low and raspy, a tell-tale sign he doesn't talk a lot. Wooyoung's stomach flips.

"Um." Wooyoung licks his lips, adjusts his glasses. Why am I suddenly so awkward? He looks out the window, then looks back at the man, only to internally freak out when the man's golden eyes locks with his. So familiar. "Earlier, when -- when I, uh."

He clears his throat. "W-When I um, paid. You just walked off." He clears his throat again. "A thank you would've been nice."

"Right."

"Excuse me?" Wooyoung's taken aback.

"You did a good deed," the man utters,  the words 'good deed' sounding rather bitter, "and now you expect a thanks. I never asked for your help."

Wooyoung blinks, wondering if he'd heard right. "Yes, you didn't ask for my help, but you sure got a free fucking bus ride out of it. And I don't need your thanks, just thought it was basic human decency."

"I don't need your pity either," the man spits, pure venom coating his tone, "so fuck off and stop talking to me."

Wooyoung is speechless. Yeah, it's not the first time he's been hated, as his extreme popularity also brings about quite a few anti-fans, but this is the first time it's felt so... personal.

Wooyoung sort of wants to deck this guy into another dimension. He scoffs. "Wow."

The man doesn't reply, back to just looking out the window. But Wooyoung wants him to reply, wants him to acknowledge how much of a dickhead he's being and how much he's just fucked up Wooyoung's morning.

"You're a jerk, you know that right?" Wooyoung says, more of an attempt to get this guy's attention than anything else. He's a little hurt, yes, but he wants the guy to look at him.

The guy sighs, his lips still clenched shut. Talk to me.

Wooyoung doesn't know if it's his loneliness acting up or what, because despite how outlandishly arrogant this stranger is, he's definitely piqued Wooyoung's curiosity. Talk to me please.

"What?"

Wooyoung contemplates just revealing his identity to the world by crashing through the bus's roof right then and there. What the hell is wrong with him? "What?"

The guy's looking in his direction again, not looking at him however.

Wooyoung wants to slam his head into the window. "I'm sorry. You know what? Just ignore me now. Thanks."

Wooyoung doubts he's even making sense, his insides getting all mushy when the man peers at him through his peripheral vision. Their eyes meet once more, and the guy breaks it yet again by facing forward.

Are you hiding something? Why won't you look at me? Wooyoung's mind races with a plethora of thoughts. He doesn't attempt any further conversation, drowning himself in Brown Noise until the bus stops at Treasure Heights, the center of everything.

Just as the doors open, the guy is already outside, his hood falling to reveal dark hair pulled into a small ponytail. The guy readjusts his cap and bag, walking straight ahead.

Wooyoung follows after him. He's not intending to be a stalker, he's just pulled to the guy, wants to know why he feels so recognizable.

He manages to take a few steps before the man fully turns around, his entire face in full view. His hooded amber eyes pierce right through him, his jaw set. The right side of his face's a bit redder than the left but it doesn't stop Wooyoung breath from hitching in his throat. His heart squeezes.

"You're following me," the man says, his gravelly voice kinda getting to Wooyoung's head.

"No! Um -- " Wooyoung goes to him, racking his brain for an excuse. "I'm uh, looking for a cafe. Any cafe, actually. Kinda craving for some coffee right now. Eh." Fuck I'm such a mess.

If the man were Hongjoong, he would've told him to fuck off and find it himself -- then secretly get him his favourite later. Wooyoung's expecting something along those lines, because not too long ago they were at each other's throats (and Wooyoung had thought about knocking him out, so that's that).

However, the man just...points at the building right behind him. "A cafe."

Embarrassment nips at Wooyoung's core. "Oh. Thanks."

The man's expression doesn't change in the slightest, save for his thick eyebrows knitting a bit. "Okay."

Wooyoung wants the ground to swallow him whole. Fuck, this can't be it. "Um, what's your um, name?"

The guy frowns. "My name?"

"In case I uh, see you again. I'm Wooyoung, by the way." Wooyoung doesn't know what the fuck he's doing, but he doesn't think he'll forgive himself if he lets this guy slip through the cracks, forever unknown.

"Guess you'll just have to see me again to know," the guy replies, then vanishes into the crowd.

Wooyoung's ears and neck flush.

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a/n: thoughts?