8. Jack

CHAPTER 8

JACK

A s soon as my friends walked up to us, I could smell the disaster, and of course, the big bang came when I had no other option but to tell them Seojun is my fiancé. As if I wouldn't tell my friends I was in a relationship, even if it was with a closeted individual. Oh, what they must think of me and our friendship.

But on the plus side, that means more people have met him and witnessed my enslavement. I don't know how exactly that's a good thing, but I'm sure it is.

"Interesting bunch. Your friends," he says when we're back in a cab on our way to Central Park, though I have no idea why we're even going there.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I ask.

He shrugs.

"You really meant it when you said all your friends are queer, didn't you? How does a straight guy end up with so many queer friends?"

"It's a long story."

"We've got time." He looks out the window with a nod.

I glance at my exposed arm, at Seojun's signature still there, bright and bold, and I bite my lip before I look at the driver through the rearview mirror, but he's no help. Heck, I'm no help. Even if he did look, it's not like I could ask him to get me out of this. There is no way out of this. Only through. Might as well accept it.

"I've collected them." I lean back with a sigh.

"What are they? Pokémon?"

"No. I…I mean, they've all been victims of CREEP crimes at some point or another. And, well, I've kept in touch to make sure they're recovered, and one thing led to another?—"

"And now you're a happy polycule!" He smirks.

"We're just friends."

"Oh, I know," he answers. "So Brandon has a power, and Annie is a bit…" He twirls his fingers in circles in front of him.

"She can see auras."

"Oh. I thought she's just a hippie."

I chuckle. Truth be told, she is. How could she not when she could see things about people the rest of us couldn't?

"What about Zeke? Any powers?"

"Zeke is a teacher."

"That's not a superpower."

"Then you clearly haven't met teachers."

Seojun crosses his arms like a stubborn kid would stomp when he's told he's wrong, and I have to bite my lip before I laugh in his face.

"Anyway, Zeke's power is also literally teaching."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I just said. He can teach anyone anything."

He considers my words for a moment before he continues.

"And what about Robin?"

"Robin is just Robin. They are not superpowered."

"Pfft. How ableist!"

I shake my head. "It's not like I control if people have powers or not."

"But can't you?" He arches his eyebrow, all serious, and I bury my face in my hands.

"SPAM isn't God, you know?"

"No, they're the devil?—"

"Here we go," the cab driver says, and Seojun closes his mouth and reaches for the door handle.

I look out and pause.

"This is where you live?"

"Yeah, what's wrong with it?"

I shake my head and exit the car into the courtyard of Central Park Diamond, the most expensive residential building in New York, or probably even the whole country. And it's not just a building. It's a skyscraper. The diamond of the New York City skyline, with over forty floors of luxury and style.

"No. Nothing," I say.

Maybe he's going to trick his way into the building. Maybe he's just testing me or something. But no, I follow him, and sure as hell, he uses his own key fob to gain entry into the lobby and the elevators.

We go up to the thirty-ninth floor and to one of three apartment doors. His is the one in the middle, and once I go through, I nearly have a heart attack.

A short hallway leads to a dining table in front of floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over Central Park and beyond. To the left is the sitting room with two long six-seater couches opposite each other. In the middle are two wooden-and-glass blocks that are almost as long and act as coffee tables, complete with photography tables and mini-sculptures. Turning the corner, I find the kitchen with white marble countertops and ample space.

"You own all this?" I ask as Seojun takes his coat off, finally revealing his attire underneath, which, to my surprise, is a simple black tank top, and kicks off his shoes, collapsing on one of the couches with wild abandon, whereas I'm too scared to take another step for fear of dirtying the floors and leaving DNA traces for police to find afterward.

"Oh yeah. It's all mine. I know it's not much?—"

"Not much? Are you kidding?" I slowly peel off my shoes and approach him.

"Pftt, this? It's nice, but it's not the penthouse. But I'll get it one of these days."

I narrow my eyes.

"You'll get it how? With your signature trickery?"

"Trickery?" he asks.

He looks far more human now, probably because the fur made everything he did seem big and extravagant.

"Baby, that's no trickery. That's just skill. Do you know how much practice it took to get where I am today? My power is no trick."

Baby?

Did he just call me baby?

"But even my power has limits. I can't sign for something that expensive, and believe me, I've tried. Besides, signatures are tricky when their effect fades. I couldn't risk it with this place. I had to work around the lack of money so I could still own this place even after my power wore off. And that took de-di-cation." He claps his hands to the rhythm of the last word as if for emphasis, and I smirk.

"I never doubted your dedication for a second," I tell him.

He infiltrated our satellite office to find his family after all. That says it all.

"Good. Now!" He shoots right up, and I pull back. "I'll show you to the guestroom because I'm tired, and I need to get my beauty sleep."

He doesn't need sleep to become beautiful, but I don't tell him that because…that's weird. Especially for me to think.

The rooms look pretty much as one would expect. They reflect the minimalism of the rest of the house, with beige the dominating color and navy blues and gold for accents. It's odd. It's impressive, but it's not very homely.

I know my house is a hole and the things I own aren't the newest or flashiest, but it feels more lived in than this massive space that's mostly empty. Empty of clutter, empty of furniture, and empty of people.

"I'm just across the hall—" He starts to walk into his own room when pain bursts through me and I collapse to my knees.

When I look out at Seojun, he's also on the floor. We crawl back to each other, and like magic, the pain snaps back to oblivion, leaving us gasping.

"I don't think we can sleep in different bedrooms."

"You think?" He scoffs. "Fine. Follow me."

His bedroom is almost a carbon copy of the guestroom only it has a giant, pink, pillar-shaped cushion in the middle.

"What is that?" I point at it.

"Ah, ah, ah," he tuts. "Don't even think about it, mister. You're sleeping on the floor. That's my bed."

I look down at the cold, tiled floor. At least I won't get any hot flashes.

"Or you can sleep on the chair." His tone is less sharp this time, and I follow his gaze to the armchair at the end of the room, overlooking the Upper East Side.

"That's fine by me, but I think it might be too far from you."

"You're not sleeping in my bed!" He wags a long finger to my face.

"Didn't say—" I start when Seojun folds in two.

I double-check my body, but I don't feel any pain.

"What? We're standing next to each other," I say.

He takes two deep breaths before he straightens.

"I know."

"Then what?"

"Nothing." He shrugs, acting nonchalant, but a moment later, he hisses and folds in two.

"What's going on? Are you okay?" I reach out for him, but he flicks my hands away before I can touch him.

"I'm fine. It's nothing."

"Clearly not," I tell him, considering he's practically shaking.

"I…I just need to get something from the bathroom, is all," he says and starts walking out of the room, and we both collapse on the floor, pain pulsing through me.

I get closer to him, and only when the pain fades again do I realize what's happening.

"You need to go to the toilet, don't you?" I glance down at his thighs, clenching inwards.

I don't know how I missed that the first time.

"Me? Please! I don't do toilets, thank you very much." He cries out and rushes to a closed door between the two rooms. "I just need…to take this makeup off. You can wait out here."

He opens the door, and I look inside. It's almost as big as my apartment, and the toilet, of course, is on the other side from the door while the sink is next to it.

"Okay." I smirk and lean against the wall as he closes the door, bracing myself for the pain that's bound to come.

Sure enough, it comes like wildfire.

The door flies open and a frowning Seojun emerges. I can't help but laugh.

"Need any help?"

"I hate you," he answers, and seconds later, I find myself curled up in the bathtub, looking out at the city with headphones around my ears blasting Heavy Metal while Seojun tries to "sing" as he put it. Because, apparently, the Sinister Seomyeong doesn't do number twos. To say this is highly entertaining is an understatement. If it weren't for my power, I'd probably find this moment extremely mortifying, but I think it's justice for being mocked when we first met and proof that Seojun is human, like the rest of us.

There's a tap on my shoulder, and I jump, turning around to a red-faced Seojun.

"All done?" I ask, taking the headphones off.

"Oh yeah. My voice has never sounded better," he says, waving his hand in front of his mouth as if he's about to sing.

"Oh yeah. It smells like you sang great." I pinch my nose even though I can't smell anything but vanilla and step out of the bathtub. His eyes go wide, and I catch a glimpse of the vanilla-scented air freshener on top of the toilet lid.

"Mind if I practice my runs too before lights out?"

His shocked expression turns into a grimace, and he snatches the headphones from my hand.

"You're disgusting," he says, jumping into the bathtub.

"You started it." I wink at him.

"How's the floor?" he asks when we're back in the room and after he's thrown me two pillows to rest my head on.

The lights of the city that never sleeps flicker below like fireflies, never allowing the room to go fully dark. Not that I mind. I've never had the privilege of sleeping in such a setting. It's magical.

"Cold and hard," I answer, too dazed by the view to look back at him.

"You're so funny." He snorts completely deadpan before he goes quiet.

I can tell he's staring at me though. I can feel it in the back of my head, tickling me.

"I guess…" he starts but pauses. This time, I turn around and look into his eyes reflecting the city lights and making him look more vulnerable than he's looked since I met him earlier today. "I guess you can sleep here." He pats the space next to him, hugging the pink pillar cushion.

"Are you sure?" I ask.

He nods, moving back a smidge.

"But keep your hands to yourself, Mr. Creep."

I sit up, grab the two pillows, and jump into bed with him. For some reason, I don't point out that I could have moved the armchair closer to the bed or I could make a bed with a few more pillows, which he has in abundance. No. I don't point that out. I just lie beside him and watch him.

His legs and arms are wrapped around the pink cushion like a sloth clinging to a tree branch. His pink silk pajamas look flawless against his skin, even if his face no longer is. His cheeks are red and spotty and his lips appear dry and almost white. But I don't mind. He looks like one of us without all the makeup and character he puts on when he gets caught.

As if I didn't notice how relaxed and giggly he got during movie night. As if I didn't notice how drained he looked in the cab before we'd arrived.

He might not be a good liar, but he is a pretty good actor, and now I'm finally seeing more of the real Seojun.

"You're staring at me," he mumbles without opening his eyes.

"I am." I feel a laugh in my belly, but it turns into a grin when it reaches my throat.

"Stop it. It's weird."

"Okay. I'll stop," I whisper but keep watching him.

Without needing to open his eyes, Seojun readjusts his hold on the pink cushion and grimaces.

"No, you're not. Stop being a creep, creep. Good night!"

I close my eyes for a moment and then open them again.

What's wrong with me? I should be tired. I should be looking forward to passing out, to resting my eyes.

But all I can do is lie there and stare at Seojun as sleep claims him one breath at a time.

I want to turn my back to sleep, but it's as if someone's holding a flashlight right in my face, and it's impossible to do anything but follow it.

Who is this creature who believes he is a supervillain, and a good one at that, and how on earth did I end up in bed with him? And why is there something in the back of my mind telling me this is precisely where I'm meant to be?

A loud wheeze ruptures the silence in the room. Seojun's lips trill. His nostrils flare. His chest expands. And he snores again.

"See? Human," I whisper at him and finally find the strength to turn my back to him and shut my eyes.

When I open them again, my body is in agony. I shoot up, screaming in pain, and look beside me. Seojun isn't there.

What the heck?

Where did he go? And why did he go without me? Most importantly, how can he not feel this horror through his own body? It's like I'm being torn in two.

I scramble to the bedroom door and run from room to room, trying to locate him.

"What are you doing?" I ask when I finally find him.

I have to go through the kitchen, living room, and dining room before I find his office, and he's slouching behind the desk as if nothing's happening.

"Huh?" he looks up, and I take two more steps before the pain disappears.

"What do you mean, huh? Are you okay?"

He groans and sits up in his desk chair, which is way too large for him and looks as if it has two horns at the top, and grabs a cup of coffee.

"I'm fine, why?" he asks after taking a gulp.

"What do you mean fine? You left the room without me?"

"Oh." He looks up at me with dark-slitted eyes. "I'm sorry."

This guy is so confusing.

"What do you mean sorry? You don't have to apologize. But didn't you feel like crap when you left my vicinity?"

He shrugs.

"I always feel like crap in the morning."

I bury my face in my hands and chuckle, shaking my head.

This guy.

"You forgot I was here, didn't you?" I ask after a few more moments and gulps from him.

"I did not." I raise an eyebrow. "Okay, I did. Sorry. Coffee?" He offers me his own cup, probably realizing if he suggests I grab my own it would mean having to drag himself to the kitchen too.

"Thanks." I take it from him and give it a taste. I shudder and choke.

"What?" he asks when I give him the cup back.

I clutch my heart and take deep breaths before I can compose myself.

"Did you empty all the sugar into the cup, or are my tastebuds playing tricks on me?"

He rolls his eyes and twirls around in his chair.

"I like things sweet."

"So do I, but that's not sweet. That's a sugar bomb inside a sugar bomb."

"Get your own cup then."

"I would, but something tells me you are way too comfortable in that chair."

He glares at me and sips his coffee again as if to prove a point. Not that I would know what the point is. But I'm not going to admit that to him.

"Anyway, what was so urgent that you ignored unbearable, physical pain to get here?"

I glance down at his dark oak desk, which appears too tidy for someone so chaotic. His laptop is the only thing actively being used, therefore the only "messy" thing on it. There are, of course, a few photography books at the edges, along with a few candles, and I can't help but wonder. Does this guy actually like photography, or has he simply not touched the house since he got it, by whatever means?

"I had to cancel something."

I raise an eyebrow.

"Cancel what?"

He shakes his head.

"None of your business."

"Was it a wax? A mani-pedi? A naughty subscription." All of which I can imagine him having.

"No! My waxing appointments are nonnegotiable and only every other Wednesday, my mani-peds are every Monday at twelve on the dot, and my naughty subscriptions are too precious to cancel," he says and turns away from me, but I catch the shock in his eyes, as if he's revealed too much about himself again.

"Then what did you need to cancel?"

I hear him take a deep breath before he swivels and sets his coffee on the desk.

"Auditions."

"Auditions for what?"

"It's nothing." He tries to dismiss me again.

"Seojun! What are you hiding? A career on Broadway, perhaps?"

He blows raspberries and rolls his eyes.

"I wish."

"Then what?"

Another deep breath.

"Sidekick auditions."

"Sidekick auditions?" I chuckle.

Do people actually audition sidekicks?

"What on earth do you need a sidekick for?"

He slaps the desk and stands.

"I'm a supervillain, damn it. Every supervillain needs a sidekick to do their dirty work."

"Not a supervillain." I shake my head.

"Am so."

"Barely even a villain."

He gasps.

"Fuck you. I'm the biggest baddie in NYC."

"Not even remotely. You have no idea what kind of baddies are walking around in NYC."

"Yes, I do. Because I'm one!"

I laugh at that even though he glares at me as if trying to make me combust, which only sends me into another laughing fit.

"Oh, shut up." He pouts and falls back into his chair.

Somehow, I compose myself.

"Why do you need to cancel them?"

He shrugs.

"Can't exactly have them being stuck with you, can I?"

I put my hands up and take a step back.

"Hey, don't cancel them on my account. You need to do what you need to do."

"Yeah, but…" His glance flickers back and forth between me and his laptop.

"But what?"

"It's not just that."

"Then what is it?"

He ponders the questions a few more agonizing seconds before he replies.

"It's…well, the last auditions didn't go great."

I cross my arms and brace myself for the biggest laugh of my life.

"What happened last time?"