Taemin didn't frequent public parks, but this one was familiar.

It was surprisingly empty of people, as if they had sensed the oncoming danger without even knowing anything about it. A couple of joggers made their way down the path, and children played in the sandbox, but it was still relatively quiet. Taemin adjusted the lapel of his overcoat, going off-track and walking until he came to a copse.

He remembered it from his younger years, a place he used to frequent when he had nowhere else to sleep. There was a bench to one side of the open space, and there was a man sitting on it with his back facing the blond. Taemin bit the inside of his cheek, hands fluttering at the fabric of his scarf in anxiousness. He took a step forward, then stopped.

It wasn't that he had come here uninvited. He wasn't stalking anyone or doing anything that went under an average moral code, simply meeting someone as a request by the other party. But guilt still ate at him, hidden beneath the calm composure he assumed, like mites eating away the inside of a wooden foundation, slowly working to topple the whole building.

Then the man on the bench turned, and Taemin's hands spasmed at his sides. Kai raised an eyebrow, looking more put-together than before, none of his usual confused energy surrounding him. In fact, he looked almost—older. More present.

"What are you still standing there for?" he asked, then shifted to the side, patting the empty spot on the bench beside him. "Come on."

Taemin hesitated only briefly before complying and sitting down beside him. To his surprise, Kai twisted away instead of continuing with the conversation, turning to look at the bare-branched trees and the shed leaves strewing the ground.

Taemin swallowed against the dryness in his throat, but his mouth felt equally dry. It was rare for him to feel so powerless—in front of another person, that is, though it may as well have been because of his lack of human contact. The two sat in silence for another few moments, the quietude calm on the surface but suffocating within.

"I'm sorry," Taemin started, almost stammering out the words in his haste to get them out. He hung his head, looking down at his hands in his lap, unsure how to proceed. "For not saying anything earlier."

"Is that all?" Kai asked. He sounded casual, almost uncaring, but his gaze was sharply observant when it landed on Taemin's face.

Once again, the millionaire found himself at a loss for words.

"I-I was—" Taemin started. Kai kept his eyes on his face, which did wonders for his already frantic pulse. "I don't know what to say."

Kai nodded slowly, and looked away. Silence cloaked them again, and Taemin curled in his fingers to stop from picking at his cuffs.

"Do you know why I never forced you to tell me about the parking lot fire?" Kai asked. "I could have convinced you to tell me, or whatever the word for it is. But I didn't."

Taemin frowned shakily. "I don't—"

"Know, yeah, I can see that." Kai sighed. "I did because I wanted you to tell me. Not because I forced you—manipulated you, whatever. I wanted you to tell me of your own accord, on your own terms. And yet you never did."

The blond's face turned ashen. He had never consciously hidden the fact, but he had definitely unconsciously buried it to avoid questions. In the few months that Taemin had worked with the team, his insecurity had never been so crippling. He knew that it stemmed from him hiding something as serious as an affiliation with their enemy, but instead of talking about it, he had shut himself away to avoid any possible conflict. It had only made things worse, and he had ended up avoiding many little things to go along with it—things that had seemed unimportant in the grand scheme of things, but now he knew they weren't.

"You weren't supposed to be a part of the original lineup," Taemin said softly. "It was a coincidence that I was out that night, and that Irene tried to take you from the bar—I hadn't known it was her back then." His words sounded muted to his own ears, tinny and faraway. "You had been knocked out, probably drugged, when Baekhyun and I found you. You didn't set the fire. Baekhyun did."

Kai was staring at him openmouthed, face soft with surprise. The expression was so ambiguous it looked almost tender, Taemin thought. Then Kai pressed his lips together, puckering them into a thoughtful line, and nodded slowly as his gaze turned unfocused. "So I was an accident?" he murmured. "The thing you said—all of us being handpicked, that was a lie?"

"You were picked," Taemin said. "Maybe not by me, but you were supposed to be a part of this all alone. I am not the kind of man who believes in fate, but if I had to give that occurrence a name, that was what I would call it." He smiled wryly. Telling the truth made him feel calmer, surprisingly. "If I hadn't found you that day, we would have been dead by now."

"I didn't really do anything."

"You got Lucas out of the bar, and Lucas got us out of many a scrape." Taemin shrugged. "Well—maybe not all of us would have been dead, but Lucas could have, and consequentially so would Taeyong. I know I lied to you—all of you—and I did a lot of things I shouldn't have, but my lies have nothing to do with you important you are. I'm glad I found you."

Kai blinked. "You are?"

"Yes," Taemin breathed. His chest felt lighter, like someone had just lifted a heavy rock off it. "I am. I really am."

|

"I am not Mark," Mark said in an artificially deepened voice. "Really."

"That's not going to work, Mark," Taeyong called through the door. It was thin enough that his voice carried through, which was sad but also helpful in such a situation. "I know what your voice sounds like with that modulator."

"Ah, darn," Mark muttered. Taeyong could visualize the accompanying pout as he spoke, which was a picture painted in stark contrast with the fake deep voice.

"I'm not going to open the door. You can say anything you want from the other side."

"Hello from the other side," Mark said, a brief smile in his voice, which was back to normal. He had probably removed the throat device after his failed attempt at deception. "Sorry, forget I said that. It sounded funnier in my head."

Taeyong let his forehead fall against the doorframe, and closed his eyes. It had only been a few days since he had walked out on the team, and there had been no contact since—save for the countless missed calls and ignored texts on his phone, and the perpetrator had now shown up at his doorstep, apparently refusing to back down. "What, Mark?" he asked bitterly. "Are you here to convince me to come back? Because that's not happening and we both know it."

"At least hear me out," Mark pleaded, and Taeyong bit his lip. "Open the door, Taeyong, please—just give me, like, a few minutes and I'll be out of your hair, alright?"

Taeyong sighed, moving away to scowl at the door. He supposed a few minutes couldn't do any harm, but then, is anyone could convince him to go back, it would be Mark. The problem was that Taeyong didn't know if he wanted to be convinced.

Reluctantly, he pulled open the door, which creaked as it swung. Mark stood right outside with a surprised expression. Apparently he hadn't expected his plea to actually work. Taeyong took a close look at the boy, hair combed and shirt unwrinkled, but there was a light bruising around his eyes which gave away his state.

"Have you been staying up?" Taeyong asked, raising an eyebrow.

Mark's eyes widened fractionally, and he reached up to touch the fringe of his hair. "No," he said quickly. "...maybe."

Taeyong sighed. His inner caretaker instincts nagged at him to say something, but he reminded himself that Mark wasn't really his responsibility. "What?"

"You're right, I was going to try to convince you to come back," Mark said. "Not because of Taemin—I'm not staying because of Taemin, either. I stayed for the people who need us, you know? I just wanted to ask you reconsider because those kids need all the help they can get." His eyes looked very large in his small, drawn face. "Like Seonghwa."

Taeyong's face tightened. "I'll probably only make it worse," he said through his teeth. "Taemin has backup Supers, doesn't he? They should be more than enough."

His tone was acidic, which made Mark's lips purse even more. "Would you sit back if it was Jaemin?"

The man's shoulders stiffened. Mark seemed to realize he had hit a nerve, and for a moment, something close to hope shone through his features, before being replaced quickly by panic as Taeyong began to close the door. "Taeyong!"

But Taeyong had already finished shutting the door—almost, until Mark stuck his foot in the thin gap left. Taeyong clenched his teeth, his grip tightening on the door jamb. "Mark, stop."

"Was it something I said?" the younger boy insisted, looking upset. "About Jaemin? Because—"

"It wasn't," Taeyong snapped, opening the door again. Mark retraced his foot, but stayed tensed. "You're right. I would do anything to keep Jaemin safe. If he had been one of those kids abducted, I wouldn't have stayed put. But he's not," he strained. "He's here. Which means I'm staying here, too." Mark began to open his mouth, but Taeyong jerked the door shut before he could say anything. It connected with a loud sound like a gunshot. "Goodbye, Mark."

He waited for a few moments behind the door for Mark to speak, not sure why he did. It wasn't like he was going to listen to him... Taeyong loosened his jaw, but his facial muscles still felt taut.

"I'm sorry," he said, to no one in particular.

||

i'm really sorry for not sticking to my original updating schedule, which is because i've stared on three new projects: the y/n syndrome, a shadowhunter!seungcheol oneshot and a street racer!hyunjin oneshot. jdskajdh i probably shouldn't have taken on so much because i have to get both the oneshots finished before the 22nd and they're both pretty long but !! that's not the point.

idk how much i'll be able to update super, but i can promise you it'll be over before the end of june (sad hours). i'm SO glad for you guys' love and support for this book, since super m isn't exactly a group commonly written about. i'm grateful for each and every one of you <3

and seventeen sold over one million copies of their newest album (and it's only been FIVE DAYS. king shit.) which is cause for celebration !!

love, 
Manx.