Chapter Text
Throwing a punch with broken ribs really really hurts.
Of course, Seunghoon knows that. But only like, theoretically. He wasn’t fully prepared for the sparks of pain that fired across his nerves’ ends when his fist meets the hard cut of a jaw. He was pulling his punches earlier but this dude is just too stubborn to go down easily until Seunghoon strains his shoulders to put all his weight into one punch.
He props his shoulder against the cold grimy wall and tries to catch the breath that is coming out in short rasps from his lungs. Good thing that painful last punch knocked the guy down – finally! – because Seunghoon doesn’t think he can even lift his hand right now.
Whatever healing his ribs did over the past two days is probably waste now and he will have to suffer again for at least another week, because even with enhanced healings, broken ribs are a bitch to recover from. Especially without proper medical care.
The dude hisses something from the ground, holding his broken and bloody nose. Seunghoon can’t hear him clearly over the buzzing in his ears, but he can imagine that it is something along the line of threats and curses. It always is the case with these kind of people.
“God, shut up.” Seunghoon groans and webs the guy’s mouth shut. He tries not to use his webs on people too often because who knows what kind of side effects they have. But the guy is annoying and Seunghoon is running pretty thin on patience right now. “I have a pretty rough day, man. So just shut up until the police comes, alright?”
Rough day doesn’t even begin to cover it.
Taehyun was at the producer booth today, because apparently, Seunghoon has not been suffering enough lately.
Every breath Seunghoon took hurt his ribs all over, and he couldn't control his breathing or tempo during his recording session, breaking after every two lines to catch his breath. Taehyun’s face gets darker and darker as Seunghoon wasted more and more recording time, fucking up even the smallest parts. Seunghoon finally called it and said that he is not feeling well before a blood vessel pops in Taehyun’s head.
He thinks he would rather deal with Seungyoon’s constant strings of nagging over Taehyun’s silent judgmental stares. That’s how scary Taehyun can be for a guy two years Seunghoon’s junior.
Even Jinwoo was unhappy with him because he had to go in after Seunghoon to record when Taehyun’s mood was already sour and dark. But he at least shared his ginger honey tea with Seunghoon when Seunghoon complained that he is having a stomachache. It tasted expensively gross, which is exactly Jinwoo’s taste.
Seunghoon was planning on having a quiet and painful night in. Sleep is precious to come by these days. They are constantly writing songs, recording, re-writing, re-recording. And Seunghoon has to go out and beat bad guys at night too.
He is trying to cut down his nightly activities. He really is. He just got his ass handed to him two nights back by a gang of thugs trying to rob a liquor store, and one of them tried to use a baseball bat on his ribs. Seunghoon took immense pleasure in pushing that guy into the wine rack, although the store owner didn’t.
Well, better a few broken wine bottles than an emptied-out register, right?
Anyway, he was ready for a bath and a good meal loaded with fats and calories (he’s been fighting constantly for weeks; he earned it), but he heard a scream a couple of blocks away from the dorm, and he couldn’t help himself. It is practically in his backyard anyway.
It was only three guys – large intimidating guys but Seunghoon has faced larger, who were kicking a man in his middle age into a pool of his own blood. Loan sharks, probably. But, it is not like Seunghoon has the time to inquire after the reason. They jumped on him once he swung into the middle of the brawl and pushed them apart.
All of them are lying on the dirty ground right now, conscious but hopefully beaten enough not to get up and take a swing at him again. The guy he was trying to help had run away long ago, the same pattern as almost everyone he had ever helped.
He flexes his arms a little and winces at the pain, biting at his lips to make sure he doesn’t throw up. Seunghoon doesn’t even want to think about the consequences of throwing up when he is in the suit.
The pain has lessened a little but not enough for him to swing back to the dorm.
Maybe he can call manager hyung.
Huh. Imagine that.
Hi hyung. Can you come pick me up at this dirty alley where I just beat up three guys to the ground while wearing a spandex suit and shooting web strings from my fingers? And can you get me a burger on the way? Thanks.
One of the guy groans and attempts at standing up. Which is a waste of effort really. This guy at least has an option to lie on the nice firm ground until someone comes to pick him up (hopefully to throw him in jail). Seunghoon has no such option. He should be back at his room since like ten minutes ago, resting and writing lyrics, instead of standing here and trying to swallow down the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. God, please don’t be a loose tooth. Teeth are one thing that he can’t heal or grow back.
He groans and sighs out loud, pushing himself off the wall. This time, he is a little more mentally prepared so the pain is not that shocking. It still hurts like a bitch though.
He would really love a cool exit like crawling up the building or shooting a strand of web from his fingers and swinging himself up, but his body is not having any of it, so he just decides to walk home back under the shadows of the dark alleys connecting the apartments. He is going to have to crawl up the wall to their dorm on the 9th floor anyway. He should probably save his energy for that.
*
The bath is warm and soothing and Seunghoon can cry from how amazing it feels on his aching body. He is grateful for the hundredth time that their dorm has an actual bathtub, unlike the shared, cramped and always cold shower he used to share with three other guys when he first moved to Seoul.
There are a few evidences of his night on his face, lit up by the strong bathroom light. The scrap near his eye can be easily hidden with a concealer. Seunghoon is getting pretty good at it. The makeup noonas would be proud of him.
The worst offender in terms of looks is actually the purpling bruise on his mouth, torn skin visible through the dried blood. It doesn’t even hurt that much but it is not something that he can hide like his broken ribs.
He cleans the wound as carefully as he can and makes sure he flushes the blood stained tissues down the toilet. Hopefully the bruise will fade in the morning or else, he will have to wear a mask the whole day again.
When he first started and hadn't yet realize that his healing has been accelerated along with his senses, he almost had a breakdown thinking of how he is going to explain his beaten up face.
He is getting better at lying as well.
When he walks back into his bedroom, body tired and ready to crush, Lee Hee is already sleeping in her corner. Seunghoon panics a little before he sees her half eaten food bowl. Minho probably came in and fed her because Seunghoon forgot to do it before he left. Minho is the only one who thinks a Chihuahua the size of a Pringles can needs to eat a large bowl filled with food to the brim.
He falls face down on his bed, wincing when his ribs come in contact with the mattress. They still hurt but he can feel them healing. It is weird, knowing the bones inside your body are shifting back into where they should be. Seunghoon is a dancer; he has always been aware of his body, but to actually be conscious of his inner bones and joints is both incredible and disgusting.
Seunghoon groans lowly into his pillow; the pain is gradually ebbing into something familiarly soothing, and he can feel himself drifting away into sleep.
Someone knocks on the door.
The problem with heightened senses is that you are aware of every little movements and sounds. Even the sounds of someone gently tapping their knuckles on your door.
Or a whisper. “Seunghoon hyung, are you asleep?"
Seunghoon doesn’t cry, but it’s a near thing. Maybe if he doesn’t answer, he’ll be left alone.
“Seunghoon hyung.” The voice calls again.
“What do you want Minho?"
Apparently, acknowledging him is all Minho needs because the next thing Seunghoon knows, he is stepping into the room, turning the lights on.
“No, keep it off.” Seunghoon says, turning his head to face the wall. “My eyes are sensitive."
“Ok, grandpa.” Minho snorts but turns the lights back off.
“What’s up?” Seunghoon asks again, resigning himself to the fact that he is not going to able to sleep at least for another 15 minutes. If he is lucky and Minho is not feeling like talking much.
“Where were you earlier? Taehyun said you were sick.” Minho says, hip-checking Seunghoon to the side and sitting down on the bed.
“On the roof,” Seunghoon lies, hoping Minho didn’t go up to check. The members are all too busy and/or exhausted these days to care about who is doing what 24/7, which is partly the reason Seunghoon has been getting away with his nighttime adventures.
“It’s so windy up there.” Minho chides. “You should keep warm if you are not feeling good."
Apparently, nagging is contagious. Leave Minho alone with Seungyoon for one day and he turns into Seunghoon’s mom.
“Did you just come here to talk shit?” Seunghoon kicks Minho’s bare arm lightly with his socked feet and asks. Minho slaps the intruding foot and lies his head down on Seunghoon’s thigh. At least, it is not on the ribs.
“Are you not going to ask me how it went today?” Minho says, voice slowing into a grumble.
He was. But shit happens and it just kind of slips his mind.
“Sorry.” He says sincerely, reaching out his hand to ruffle Minho’s slimy hair. Just how much hair gel does this kid use for real?
"How was it?" He asks after a silent beat. Although he already knew how it went if Minho is uncharacteristically sulky.
"He likes Different." Minho replies, edgily grabbing Seunghoon's hand from his head. Unlike a certain maknae, Minho does not enjoy being pet, which is the reason why Seunghoon does it so often. "He wants us to make the tempo of the bridge a little faster though."
"That’s good, I guess. What about your songs?" Seunghoon asks what Mino really wants to talk about.
"Not hip hop enough for him apparently." Minho sighs heavily, bitterness sweeping into his tone. "Two weeks ago it was too hip hop."
"You'll find a balance soon." Seunghoon says even though he feels like he has been saying this for weeks. He knows that Minho hates this - compromising and changing his style, and in an extension of sort, who he is as an artist. But there's nothing Seunghoon can do to help. Except maybe webbing Mr. Yang’s mouth shut during the album meetings, and that is a nice scenario to imagine.
"Ah. I don't know." Minho moans. "I'm going crazy."
"You'll be fine. You work best under pressure." Seunghoon reminds him.
"I'm just gonna have to be stressed my whole life then." Minho sighs and wriggles his way up until he reaches just under Seunghoon's armpit.
"Can I sleep here tonight?" Minho asks.
"Don't kick." Seunghoon yawns and passes a pillow over to Minho before shoving his face into his own pillow and lets the tiredness of the day washes over him.