@feyjaeyong

His legs strain as he kicks off the concrete roof. He hurls himself off the side, into the dark crevice of an alleyway, and falls three stories down.

Minho transforms in-and-out of his human body. He’s a boy jumping off a ramyun factory, then he’s a city bird, and a boy again. He touches down on the wet cement but misses his footing, and goes careening into bags of garbage head first. It’s soft, sticky, but luckily not leaking liquid death. This happens more often than he’d like to admit.

Fear pangs in his chest. His heart is speeding, and he can’t feel anything other than the hot blood rushing through his veins and the bite of the wind. Minho stands and looks ups, looking for that villainous face that chased after him. Jaeyong. His arch nemesis - maybe. When he takes a step forward, pain bites at his ankles. 

This type of action was, is, unusual for him. Comic books and movies made it look so easy to be a superhero. Like having a supernatural quirk delivered destiny to its host, making them a hero or a villain, and the rest fell into place. It was natural for them. In real life, he twisted his ankle and landed in literal garbage.

But he, sometimes, could dip in and save someone. When he flew high in the sky, he could watch the entire city. When a werewolf, a witch, or a hunter chased down an innocent to kill, he could be there. Like earlier, hardly ten minutes ago, when he helped a young vampire slip away while he dealt with Jaeyong.