20 minutes. That’s how long the villain had been sat in the passenger seat, pressing an ice pack to their incredibly swollen face. Their cheek was going numb, but they couldn’t tell if it was from the ice or from the pain. It was an embarrassing injury, to say the least. Decked in the face by a hero who they thought had left the building by that point. It was a rookie mistake, and Villain was far from inexperienced.
The culprit was in the drivers seat, one hand on the wheel, another worriedly fiddling with anything and everything they had on their person. For some strange, unintelligible reason, Hero had insisted on driving them home, or at least, as close to home as Villain would let them. There was a look plastered on their face that appeared concerningly close to guilt, but Villain daren’t question further.
The ride had been silent thus far. In the beginning, Hero had opted to try and use the radio to break the awkward silence, but the both of them felt as though the tension in the air only grew as it rattled on. Villain was used to long periods of silence, being renowned in the criminal underworld for their stealth and patience. The bolstrous and impulsive Hero, not so much. As the seconds grew into minutes, their fidgeting continued, and their gaze started to wander as far away from Villain as possible. And then, as they reached their breaking point in the silence, they spoke abruptly.
“I’m sorry,” they blurted out, and Villain was suddenly thankful that they weren’t the one driving the car, otherwise they’re certain they would have swerved into a ditch at that. An apology, from the hero? Villain was dumbfounded, and could barely sputter out a confused ‘excuse me’. Hero and Villain were enemies with a capital E, they didn’t go around apologising profusely to one another over minor injuries such as this. Then again, they also didn’t drive each other home in awkward silence, so they supposed that some sort of threshold had already been crossed.
“For punching you, I mean. It, uh, looks pretty sore,” Hero clarified, evidently trying to hide the red flood of embarrassment across their face. Though Villain had already made the presumption that Hero felt somewhat guilty over striking the criminal, they still couldn’t wrap their head around why. This wasn’t their first fight, and they had in fact gifted each other with far worse wounds before. What was one (admittedly forceful) hit amongst a rainforest of past grievances. Well, if Hero wanted to go down this route, so be it.
“I take it this sudden, overwhelming guilt is something to do with why you’ve been pulling your punches in our fights lately?” Villain questioned, to which it was Hero’s turn to fluster, as they clearly hadn’t realised that the criminal had caught onto that. However, it was hardly easy to miss. Hero had always been known as the muscle of their team, prefering to punch first and let someone else ask the questions later. So, when all of a sudden, Villain found their encounters with the Hero much less physically intense, their suspiscions grew. And now, as the do-gooder sat across them, riddled with anxiety over a single blow, their cynicism reached a climax.
Hero didn’t seem to know how to respond to that. They glanced tentatively over at their nemesis, and subconsciously gripped the steering wheel tighter as they looked them over. Something was wrong. Different.
“I just, uh, you know,” they started, trying to find the right words. Villain couldn’t place the intent behind their eyes, but they did recognise that their gaze kept darting to the criminal, though their eyes seldom locked. “Didn’t feel like that would be fair.”
To that, Villain scoffed incredulously. Since when had Hero decided that sharing punches was unfair? Certainly not when the two first met, when both of them were so violently at each other’s throats that Villain’s superiors were convinced they were about to pop a blood vessel. Sure, Hero overpowered them physically with little to no competition there, but not only had that never stopped them before, but many other supers believed the two to be evenly matched overall. What changed?
“Not fair? Hero, since when have you of all people decided that violence is above you?” Villain asked, trying not to notice how Hero’s jaw clenched further as Villain tried to press the matter, even though it was in a relatively playful manner. For a brief moment, there was pause, as Hero tried to visably work out what to say, spinning some elaborate lie in their head that would explain everything. Clearly, all of those threads were coming undone, as they then slammed their fist on the dashboard out of frustration.
“You’ve lost weight, Villain. Like, visibly lost weight. Sure, you’re still a threat, I’m not saying otherwise, but you look sick, dude. I’m not gonna fight you because quite frankly I don’t think you’re well,” Hero’s voice was dripping with concern, but Villain was more intrigued by the fury that came through in their tone, as though Hero was enraged to see the criminal grow worse and worse. Villain didn’t know what to say in return, not expecting them to care so deeply, or to have even noticed such a thing. So, they kept silent as Hero continued to rant.
“Think back to our fights a month ago. You wouldn’t be swelling up like this over a single punch, hell you probably wouldn’t have even let me land the hit. That’s not normal. Do you think I’m driving you home because I just felt generous, Villain? I’m fucking worried about you, ok?” The villain felt every response, every snide remark, suffocate in their throat before the words could come out.
It was true to an extent, Villain supposed. A not-so-pretty encounter with a rival mastermind had left them worse-for-wear, but they hadn’t thought it was so noticeable. Nobody else had realised, not even Henchman, who spent their days at Villain’s side. Amongst the whirlwind of emotions kept inside Villain’s caged chest, they noticed the familiar burning sensation of shame. Were they truly so fragile?
“Look, I’m not going to interrogate you about what’s going on, so stop making that face. I’ll leave as soon as I’m sure you can be left on your own,” Hero added, clearly seeing how Villain reacted. The criminal had always hated talking about other villains, and Hero knew that all too well. They knew a lot of things about each other, it seemed. Perhaps too many things.
“And what does that entail, exactly?” Villain ventured, unsure how they’d managed to bring themself to speak without stuttering. “Locking me in my room to ensure I don’t scamper away?”
“I’m not trying to take you prisoner, Villain, please just listen to me when I say I’m trying to help you here,” Hero’s voice was raised, and their tone was desperate. Everything about their demeanour said they were acting out of the sickly sweet goodness of their heroic heart. It was evident in Hero’s eyes: the urge to question them. To find out what was at the bottom of this, to find out who was to blame. For a split second, Villain wondered what would happen if they explained everything.
“You can stay for a week.” I need someone here with me, even just for a week. I can’t recover from this alone, please stay by my side. “After you’ve realised there’s nothing wrong, you can leave.” Please don’t leave.
