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HERO.SPHERE NEWS, where you get the latest and juiciest news about all your favourite superheroes!

Good morning, and welcome to Hero.Sphere news!

The Glory Hill central amusement park found itself at the center of a particularly jarring and visceral touchdown last night at around 7:30PM. An unidentified bus had been thrown at innocent civilians who had just finished shooting a commercial commemorating the smooth finish of Twilightvaganza, but fortunately The Golden Clover came to the rescue and prevented any tragedies from happening!

The culprit, speculated to have either a strength or a telekinesis zia, was said to have evaded the scene yet again after battling it out with The Golden Clover in a settlement scheduled for redevelopment. The Golden Clover says not to worry, however, as he will not rest until justice is served.

But, the public is speculating whether The Golden Clover purposefully let the culprit get away, or whether he has already reached his peak of utilizing his powers.

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BREAKING: The Golden Clover allegedly says Glory Hill villain was 'in no position position to fight' and that 'he is a hero, not a killer'

"I never said that!" Wooyoung grumbles from the couch, while Hongjoong watches him with the TV remote in hand, incredibly unamused.

"Then what did you say?" Hongjoong questions, lips pursed.

Wooyoung drops his gaze. "Those reporters were being pushy, and I accidentally let it slip that the guy got injured. I never said anything about letting him go because he got too weak to fight."

That's what you really did, though, he thinks, but hopefully he's got a great poker face.

Hongjoong still looks unimpressed, pulling out his glasses to clean them. "You should have been more careful."

"I know. But it was too much," Wooyoung rushes to defend himself as he bites into a granola bar. "They're always there after every single mission, shoving their shitty mics and cameras in my face. Forgive me for being overwhelmed." He flicks the wrapper at the coffee table with enough force to dent it.

Hongjoong raises a brow. "You know it's fine to not always catch the bad guys, right?" He tells Wooyoung, understanding in his eyes. "You just can't let it look like you willingly let them get away. That's the only way you can avoid new reports like these."

Wooyoung exhales deeply, ruffling his hair in frustration. "I know." He takes another bite out of the granola, eyelids heavy and tired beyond comprehension. "No missions are scheduled for today, right?"

"No, but there's that conference that's gonna be held tonight, remember?" Hongjoong says, flipping through channels in case there's anything else about Wooyoung on there.

"What conference?" Wooyoung questions even when he knows fully well what it's about.

"You and Kang Yeosang are helping with the construction of the dam in Treasure Heights on Tuesday," Hongjoong narrates, landing on Netflix to watch his favourite show.

"Fuck me." Wooyoung really isn't in the mood to talk to a bunch of people alongside his ex-boyfriend.

"Go take a rest," Hongjoong suggests. "I'll wake you before you need to go, don't worry."

What if I don't fall asleep? What if I do fall asleep and wake up terrified out of my mind? Wooyoung's mind overflows with a million and one worries, threatening to explode.

Hongjoong's eyes meet his, and it gets Wooyoung too vulnerable that he heads for his room in an instant.

Villain was in no position to fight...reached the peak of his powers...let the culprit get away.

Voices swarm the entirety of Wooyoung's being the second he removes his glasses and collapses into his bed. It's a mess of news anchor Jeong Yunho's stiffly professional report, Hongjoong's sympathetic yet stern advice, the villain's pained and fatigued whisper, and finally, San's angered words and hard eyes when he told Wooyoung that he didn't know him.

Yeah, Wooyoung doesn't know him. But he wants to. He truly wants to. He thinks back to the man he let escape yesterday night, how human he seemed that very second he sustained the leg injury, lip pulled tightly between his teeth to distract himself from all the pain. And Wooyoung can relate, because he's been there before.

As soon as it'd been discovered he had not one, but three top zias, he started training over and over again to hone his powers, never having enough time to rest or recuperate from his wounds. But it'd been fine back then, because sleep exposed him to his disturbing childhood, and he was gifted. He didn't need a lot of rest, not when he had burdens to carry and a city to save.

Or so he thought.

Wooyoung grabs his phone and airpods before he can go there, jamming Brown Noise into his eardrums until he can actually go to sleep.

Before Wooyoung recognizes what's happening, he's on top of something wet and cold. He nearly slips when he looks down and sees those dingy white tiles, coated with water and grime.

Wooyoung is barefoot too, like he always is, and when he tries to run back, a door blocks his way. He pounds on and claws at it relentlessly to break though, but it doesn't give way.

Wooyoung's throat is raw with all the screaming he does right then, cheeks wet with tears as the floor starts to enter deeper and deeper into the darkness.

He can't move, can't run away, his demise inevitable. He falls to his knees inside the bathroom, pyjamas soaked up to his chest due to all the water sloshing out of the bathtub.

Chills freeze Wooyoung from within like ice. He's so cold.

He can't dare look at that bathtub, because if he does, he'll die.

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San's hands twitch and tremble, aching to just do something. His left leg is propped over a stool, shin wrapped in a bandage and doused with a special, fast-acting antiseptic cream Mingi woke up right at dawn to go buy at the pharmacy.

The aforementioned male's currently in their shared kitchen, whipping up some breakfast. While not nearly as good of a cook as San is, his creations are edible and tasty enough.

San hates being still, so he attempts putting down the injured leg.

As if Mingi's got eyes at the back of his head, the man tuts, slamming the knife into the chopping board like a warning. "Keep it where it's positioned, Choi San."

Mingi only calls him by his full name when he's really mad or worried, and Mingi rarely gets mad. And if there's one thing San despises, it's burdening others with his problems.

He remembers tumbling into the settlement yesterday night, hot tears stinging the back of his eyes while the blood had drenched half his trousers. Mingi had immediately gone to work on freeing him of his clothing and cleaning up the wound, cursing every and all heroes known to man, particularly the one that had done this to him.

"It doesn't hurt anymore." It really doesn't, an ache San can easily ignore the only thing left behind. His eyes linger on the news report playing from the TV. "I can walk around, you know? I didn't break it."

San's already on the brink of exhaustion, something he almost always experiences when he has to explain or justify himself over and over. Talking has never been his strong suit, and he hates arguing with others.

Sizzles from hot oil erupt into the atmosphere, both savoury and greasy, and San soon smells what's likely to be bacon.

"I know you didn't, luckily," Mingi answers, cracking open a bunch of eggs. "But I mailed those bastards that you'll be out of commission for the time being. At least they had the decency to send Gains earlier today, but the bar's in hell with those idiots."

San stiffens. "Mingi."

"You need to rest -- take a break," Mingi says, tone authoritative but filled with empathy. Mingi's the one person who knows what San's gone through. "I'm gonna be picking up more tasks, okay? So don't worry and just relax."

"I can't relax," San admits, swallowing thickly. The news is talking about Wooyoung again, headlining his failure to catch him the other night. San wonders how bored an unfulfilled they have to be to keep reporting on one specific superhero every fucking day.

Footsteps trail into the living room, and with them comes breakfast, piping hot and delectable. But San isn't hungry.

"Stop listening to that," Mingi comments just as he plops into the couch. He reaches for the remote, but it floats into the air before he can touch it. "San, The Golden Clover's problems are not our concern -- "

"I don't care about him," San blurts, unintentionally cutting Mingi off. "Just don't change the channel."

The taller man sighs, soon passing San his plate of bacon, eggs and toast.

"Thanks." But San makes no move to eat.

"You gotta take something," Mingi says, already digging into his meal. San wishes he could be as willing to indulge in food regardless of his mood like Mingi always is. "Even if it's just a bite. The healthier you are, the faster you heal. The faster you get to see Jongho again."

I'll catch you when you're stronger. Healthier. Jung Wooyoung's voice fills San's mind right then like potent incense, crushing his heart in an iron-like grip. It's like San's under some spell, under some bondage, because he suddenly now can't go a day without thinking of this man.

Wooyoung had looked so confident when he said it too, posture straight and his features still startlingly handsome despite slamming into a building earlier. He looked fucking sure of himself too in that gold suit that fit him like a glove, as if he'd definitely be close enough again to capture San the next time around.

San doesn't realize he'd scoffed until Mingi stops buttering his toast.

"Something on your mind?"

On cue, The Golden Clover appears on the screen again, all crinkled eyes and gentle smiles as he poses with a few small children.

San can't help but wonder for how long Wooyoung's going to keep this facade up for. His right pocket's heavy all of a sudden, and then he's snatching the thin glass inside it.

"What the hell is that?" Mingi asks, his toast forgotten.

"A teleportation slide," San states, recalling what Wooyoung called it as clear as day. The glass glitters, a bit like stars in the night sky.

"I don't remember the Headquarters giving us something like that."

"Jung Wooyoung gave it to me."

Mingi's mouth drops, eyes blinking twice. "The Golden Clover gave this to you? W-What? How?"

Mingi's bewilderment would've been hilarious if this was a laughing matter.

"You know we fought yesterday. Then I got injured. He..." San gulps, "he gave it to me to hide. Didn't want me to get caught."

"You're not supposed to get caught," Mingi answers.

"I know. But he doesn't. He wanted to help." San doesn't know who he's trying to fool, or why he's suddenly looking at his and Wooyoung's encounter through rose-tinted glasses.

Mingi bites into his toast, brows knitted. "Heroes don't help villains."

San chews his lip, cringing at how chapped it feels. "...I know." He can feel Mingi's eyes on him, inquisitive.

"People like Jung Wooyoung are already too used to winning," Mingi continues, even though San wants him to stop. "I mean, we aid in adding to their egos too. So this is probably like some chase to him -- something new -- so he let you go."

San says nothing, picking at the bacon on his plate.

"You should get rid of that soon, San," Mingi says, gesturing at the teleportation slide. "Wouldn't want to get in trouble with the Headquarters."

"Okay."

"Are you alright?"

He thinks back to yesterday afternoon, remembering how Wooyoung had willingly gotten Jongho that ice cream and how easily Jongho smiled around him. He remembers the song Wooyoung played on that guitar, the melody tugging at San's heartstrings whenever he relives it in his memory.

San looks down at the teleportation slide, and can almost feel Wooyoung's thumb grazing his when he dropped the device into his hand. Fuck, he thinks he's gonna be sick.

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Wooyoung thinks he's gonna be sick.

The sun's hotter than usual as it's currently later in May, and it doesn't help that he's up in the sky, ramming concrete into concrete like puzzle pieces. The process is slow and time-consuming, the few sounds heard coming from the colossal machinery scattered across the area and the few people stuck behind the fence, waving posters about with his or Yeosang's face plastered on them.

Wooyoung longs for another free day. Aches for it, even. He wants a day like last Saturday, where he got to play the guitar and eat ice cream with a certain lovely teenager and his gorgeous hyung.

Wooyoung has had some time to sort of come to terms with his feelings. He won't call it a crush, per se, but this San guy makes him blush and stumble over his words like a massive idiot. Wooyoung hasn't seen him for three days now, but he hasn't forgotten him since.

"Catch!" A voice yells that very second, and Wooyoung gapes when a tree is being thrown at him. He catches it before it can cause any significant damage.

"Yeosang, what the fuck?" Wooyoung exclaims as the construction workers are far away and out of earshot.

"You should be paying attention," the blond man chastises, having grown a lot more prickly after their disasterous breakup. "The fate of this city rests on our shoulders. You may be the most popular hero right now, but that doesn't mean you get to fucking slack off."

"Shut the hell up." Wooyoung flies off, instantly more annoyed than ever. He doesn't even know how he ended up liking the guy, much less dating him.

You thought he was pretty, the irritating voice at the back of Wooyoung's head says right then. Just like you think San is pretty.

"Fuck off," Wooyoung tells it. He arranges the tree with the rest of the discarded ones, ready to go back to work when something glints at his peripheral, right on a bench meters away. The specially made contact lenses that come with his suit zoom into the sparkling object, and he just about loses his footing.

Uncaring of the eyes following after him, he charges for the bench, the grass parting under the pressure of his speed as soon as he seizes his teleportation slide.

"How the hell..." Wooyoung can barely formulate words, already searching the vicinity for him. But it's all to no avail, the man long gone.

Wooyoung tucks the device into his suit, a bit breathless at how close he'd been once more to the masked guy.

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a/n: thoughts?