Jonghyun looked up and down the street frantically. His breath came in short gasps, the warm air forming a puff of mist on each exhale that hung around for a second before dissipating into invisibility. It was actually getting harder and harder to breathe due to a combination of exhaustion and fear. The two feelings came together into a heady, confusing mixture that was making it difficult to fully expand his lungs.

Continuing to scan the street worriedly, the singer wished, not for the first time, that he could disappear just like his breaths. To fade and dissipate into the air.

He let out a small whimper, wrapping his arms around himself in mock-comfort and pressing himself against the nearest wall. The rough brickwork scraped against his back, his thin shirt providing no protection at all, and he flinched as a loud explosion sounded off in the distance. He couldn’t stay out here. That thing could come back at any moment. It wasn’t dead, there was no trace of it within the wreckage of the building next to him. It could come back.

He had to leave. He had to hide, to get somewhere safe.

But he couldn’t leave.

Jinki was still back there and Jonghyun couldn’t leave his leader and one of his closest friends behind. He just couldn’t do that. The pair had been through too much together for him to just leave. Long hours together in the training room before even their co-workers knew their names, let alone the public. Days when their legs gave out from the strain and their extremities tingled from overwork but they had fun anyway. Times when they couldn’t speak for hours on end so as not to strain their vocal cords but they communicated through hand signs and silent laughter. Running from managers and fans and the media as they did things they shouldn’t do as idols but wanted to experience. Spending long hours in hotel rooms worldwide, just chatting and relaxing. The soothing moments before a TV show filming when the two would just sit in silence and allow the company to wash away any anxiety. The small smiles they shared before they stepped onto stage at one of their concerts, allowing the screams of the crowd to wash over them and the atmosphere to penetrate their souls. The fear of being unable to help a person who he considered family. The horror of realising that one or both of them may not make it out of this situation alive.

He couldn’t get him out. Not alone. He needed help.

Help that wasn’t available to him.

Everyone else in seemingly the entire city had disappeared the second the portal opened. The loud, almost lightning-like sound that echoed across the island had drawn many people to the windows or outside the buildings, confused as to what was happening. When the sky gaped open like torn fabric and the sound increased in volume, a sound that could actually be felt, the city’s residents had scattered. By the time the aliens had swarmed out of the hole in the sky letting loose terrible screams, the majority of the population had already disappeared from the streets. Many took refuge in the depths of office blocks and apartments, many more to the subways. Some didn’t get inside in time and those… Jonghyun shuddered. They were just, gone.

Everyone, that is, except Jonghyun and Onew.

SHINee were in New York to perform one of the most exciting shows of their careers. They had embarked on a world tour over two months previous and New York was the first stop on their American leg. They were only meant to be in the city for two days and the idols had been beyond excited. They had been working tirelessly for months to get their performances polished and, after arriving in the country that morning, had been working to ensure it would look good on the stage they were to use.

After hours of practice, preparation and set-up, three of the members had headed back to the hotel to take a well-earned break; Onew and Jonghyun had remained behind. SHINee’s leader had had a question for the stage crew that he wished to get answered and Jonghyun, not wanting the man to have to travel back alone (especially as the other three took the car meaning the remaining pair would have to take a taxi), had stuck around to wait for him.

Once Onew was satisfied with the answer he had received, and had fleshed out a few further details for his solo stage, the two had left and headed outside to wait for their ride, which unfortunately required them to wait over a block away due to parking and stopping restrictions outside the venue. Neither had particularly minded the short walk or the wait for their car. New York was interesting to the both of them and it gave them a chance to admire the concrete jungle they were in. Buildings rose up either side of them in a way that was both very similar and strikingly different to the buildings in Seoul.

The people were also different, they all walked at a rapid pace as if they had somewhere urgent to be and most had severe expressions on their faces. However, intermixed with these severe, busy people, were some splashes of colour. A girl in a very low-cut, bright red dress that would be considered scandalous back home walked past having an intense conversation on her phone. An old man dressed in a leopard print suit ambled down the street, looking happily at the phone clutched in his hand. A small child pointed at Jonghyun and grinned gummily, babbling something in English that the singer couldn’t understand. He waved, chuckling as the child’s mother sent him an apologetic look and hurried the child away.

Jonghyun had just been about to ask his friend when the car was due when the sky opened up.

The two men had seen it immediately – how could they not? – and had run back to the venue as fast as they could. The other people in the street flowed along with them, the number swelling as many more people abandoned their vehicles and buildings lining the streets and moved by foot. All the locals seemed to have a destination in mind as most were heading in the same direction, luckily in the same direction as the venue, so the idols didn’t have to fight the crowds.

Their fatigue from dancing all day and the soreness in their muscles was all but forgotten as they tried to get back to the relative safety of the venue. Logically, the venue was no safer than any other building. However, when aliens are spreading across the city at a rapid rate, all one really desires is to be around people they know; to know that they are safe. Plus, they didn’t actually know where else to go.

So the pair ran together, their steps in sync, only to be blown off their feet when an alien crashed into the front wall of the venue, completely destroying the main entrance. The other people around them let out startled screams at the sudden impact and scattered from the building. From above, the scene would have looked like a swarm of ants avoiding a fallen pebble, nervous of it yet still mindlessly heading to their destination.

Jonghyun would have been frozen in place as the alien murdered him if it weren’t for Onew. As it was, the pair remained frozen, both terrified for themselves as well as the staff members they had come to call friends, as the people around them gradually dwindled in number. The alien, having finished its examination of the building had let out a strange rattling sound as it swooped back down to the two idols, as the only remaining people on the street. The quick-thinking leader had proven exactly why he was the one in charge of the group when he pulled himself and Jonghyun to their feet and dragged the vocalist down the alleyway beside the concert venue.

Jonghyun had allowed himself to be dragged, his mind playing nothing but static noise and his vision having tunnelled to the point that he could see nothing but the strange, inhuman features of the alien creature. Stumbling, he felt himself be maneuverered until he was fully hidden around the corner, his back pressed against the cold metal of a dumpster. Turning to his left he was greeted with the pale face of his leader, the man pressed a finger to his lips and Jonghyun did as he was asked, watching as a small bead of sweat made a slow trail down Onew’s face, just to drip off his chin and onto the asphalt below.

 “We need to get to the subway.” Onew stated in a hushed whisper, “It’s the safest place.”

“How?” Jonghyun said, his voice coming out strangled and his tone shaky. “That thing is still out there.”

“And there will be more of them if we don’t-“

Whatever Onew was going to say was cut off as the wall next to the singers groaned and an explosion shook the very ground they were stood upon. Both males screamed as large chunks of rock fell around them as the wall gave way under the strain of remaining upright. The strange squealing cry of the alien sounded far too close to them for comfort. Both singers remained stationary, thankfully hidden by a larger piece of rubble, as the creature scanned the alley way for their presence. Apparently seeing nothing, it emitted a strange sound and shook its head in what could have been annoyance, and left slowly.

Jonghyun pulled himself to his feet, unaware he had even fallen in the first place, and brushed off some debris that was clinging to his clothes. Looking around he realised just how lucky he had been. The wall of the building was completely destroyed and the narrow side-alley now looked more like a demolition yard than a central city street.

Keeping quiet, aware that the alien probably hadn’t gone far, Jonghyun moved towards his leader. Onew still hadn’t moved from where he had fallen but he was looking at the vocalist with a soft smile – although a little strained. He was clearly only smiling for the other male’s benefit, as this wasn’t a moment for such feeling, and it came across a little strange in the setting. However, Jonghyun appreciated the effort.

“Hyung,” Jonghyun whispered, crouching down next to the older male, casting a worried look over his shoulder as he did so. “You’re right, we need to get to the subway.”

Onew shifted before visibly wincing. “Looks like I can’t do that.” He said, self-deprecatingly.

“What do you mean?” Jonghyun asked, feeling desperate. “Why can’t you? Is it the alien? Because if we stay here-“

“My legs are stuck.” The man said, cutting off his group mate’s worried rambling. “I physically can’t.”

Jonghyun gasped, shaking his head as if not believing what he was hearing. Saying nothing he moved around his leader, seeing that he was, indeed trapped. Reaching out, ignorant of the sharp stinging pain and the trail of blood that spread across his palm as he did so, Jonghyun grasped the large rock, pulling desperately at it and trying to get it to move.

Onew winced as his group-mate’s efforts put a sharp pressure on his legs. He was trapped but, luckily, his legs didn’t appear to be injured in any way. He had been incredibly fortunate.

“No, no no no.” Jonghyun muttered quietly, his words becoming more and more frantic, “No, no no no. I need to get help. I need to-“

“Get to the subway.” Onew said, reaching out to grab Jonghyun’s ankle. “Get out of here, be safe.”

“No,” Jonghyun said, shaking his head vehemently.

“Jonghyun!” Onew called, as loud as he dared. “Jonghyun!”

His words made no impact as the vocalist stood up and headed out of the alley way, apparently set on getting help for his leader.

Jonghyun shivered as a cold wind swept down the street. He felt very exposed in the main thoroughfare. As compact and as destroyed as the alley way had been, he felt far safer there; especially as he didn’t know where the alien had gone.

Looking around, he started walking down the block, hoping he was heading in the direction of people. He was sure to find someone, right? There had to be other people around. And the police, the army.

Someone.

Anyone.

Anyone other than himself.

He couldn’t be alone.

Jonghyun saw his life flash before his eyes.

Everything.

Primary school.

Performing songs with his high school band.

Joining SHINee.

Their fans.

His friends.

Taemin… Minnie.

Minho.  

Key, Kibum.

Onew… Jinki. His leader. Trapped.

All of it was reflected in the dull metal of the alien’s face plate as its putrid breath spread across Jonghyun’s face.

It made a sound, it may have been words but Jonghyun was too far gone to understand if they were. His thoughts were nothing but white noise, a high pitched note, his own blood, flowing through his veins. His vision was blurry at the edges, despite his eyes being wide open. His breath came in short, shallow pants. .

It moved, slowly, and ran a single sharp talon across Jonghyun’s face, its features twisted into a self-satisfied grin. Then it raised its weapon, the glowing tip looking eerie, even in the broad daylight. The glow increased in intensity, a strange whining sound coming from the tip.

Jonghyun closed his eyes and let out a long breath. Waiting.

But it never came.

Opening his eyes slowly, Jonghyun was shocked to see a blur of colour approaching him. The alien was crumpled to the ground, its neck cocked at an unnatural angle and its weapon snapped in two.

“Are you ok, sir?” The coloured blob asked in a language Jonghyun could barely grasp on the best of days, let alone today.

Looking at the shape closely, Jonghyun realised that the red, white and blue smear was in fact a man. Reaching up and wiping his eyes, the singer felt his vision clear as dirt, debris and tears were cleared away.

“I… I, thank you.” Jonghyun babbled in Korean, bowing formally.

“Ah,” The man said, making a noise of understanding. Grasping Jonghyun by the arm, the man – much taller than himself, Jonghyun absently noticed – steered the singer away from the wreckage. “Let’s get you to safety.”

“No.” Jonghyun stated firmly in English. He may not have understood the man’s words, but his intentions were clear. Jonghyun was not going anywhere, not without Onew.

Pulling away, ignoring the shocked look on the man’s face as he did so, Jonghyun repeated himself, shaking his head firmly. “No.”

“You have to get to safety.” The man said in words the singer didn’t recognise. He looked so concerned for the Korean but he was also sending periodic looks over his shoulder as if he had somewhere else to be.

“Jinki,” Jonghyun said, pointing firmly at the alley way.

“You can’t hide there, that’s not safe.” The man said, reaching out to stop Jonghyun as he headed back to the alley once more.

Shaking his head firmly, Jonghyun grabbed the man’s arm and pulled him with him. The man, despite his superior size and strength, didn’t resist and came along with him which Jonghyun was immensely thankful for.

“Jinki, he’s still in there, he’s trapped.” Jonghyun said in Korean. He knew the man didn’t understand his words but he hoped his meaning would get across.

“Jinki.” The man repeated, still following Jonghyun.

“Yes,” Agreed the singer, in English. “Jinki.”

Reaching the alley way, Jonghyun clambered over some of the rubble gesturing for the other man to follow. When he did, the man gasped and looked at the singer with renewed understanding. Saying nothing, he immediately set to work removing the rocks from the trapped leader.

Onew stood slowly, wincing at the pain in his legs and the numb feeling in his feet. “Thank you, sir.” He said, formally in English.

“No problem.” The man replied. “Now we need to get you two to safety. Come with me.”

“Thank you.” Onew said again in English. It was clear from his tone that there was more to those simple words than there seemed to be.

Jonghyun, always sensitive to his friend’s feelings, even if he didn’t know what the American man had said, found himself reaching out and grasping Onew’s hand. It was partially a move to show his solidarity and support of his leader and partially a move to make Jonghyun himself feel more comfortable. Either way, Onew seemed to appreciate it as he squeezed gently and smiled at Jonghyun.

“He’s going to take us somewhere safe.” Onew translated for the benefit of the vocalist.

Jonghyun nodded, looking at the large man in thanks. “He took down that alien thing all by himself, he seems strong.”

“Let’s go.” Onew said, looking away from Jonghyun and back to the man.

He nodded and gestured the two males out of the alley way. “Keep quiet and move fast.”

Onew quickly translated for Jonghyun before the small group made their way along the street, alert for any potential dangers.

Strange sounds echoed around the city. Strange warbling screams, high-pitched mechanical whirring, explosions and thundering roars. Jonghyun had not noticed any of the sounds before. In his panicked state he had not noticed much of anything. Yet now, with this tall American, he did.

He felt almost safe.

He wasn’t, of course.

None of them were.

That notion was reinforced when Jonghyun was shoved painfully into the ground. His knees impacted the pavement hard and he knew he would be feeling that for days to come. His hands scraped across the rough gravel, the skin tearing further and grit digging deep into his already injured right hand. An involuntary hiss of pain escaped from between his teeth but he said nothing.

He was happy to be only feeling that pain as a blast of whatever ammunition those creatures used blasted above his head. Instead of the sharp stinging in his knees and his hands, he had a feeling one of those blasts would hurt much, much more. Jinki, also on his knees, although apparently having landed a little gentler than Jonghyun, grabbed the blonde singer’s arm and pulled him to a standing position, ready to continue their journey.

Nodding their thanks at the tall American, the small group continued down the street to the nearby subway tunnels. The benefit of being on Manhattan Island was that they were never too far from a subway entrance and therefore, a modicum of safety.

In fact, as they rounded the corner, one was in sight.

Tall American man gestured for them to run, turning to fight more of those creatures as a woman clad in black leather appeared on the street from somewhere above them. Jonghyun wasn’t sure where she had come from as there was no visible transportation method, other than a decapitated alien on one of their air bikes that careened into a nearby wall, exploding in a ball of flames.

“Thank you.” Onew called once more to their saviour. “Seriously, thank you.”

“No problem.” The man saluted. “Now go.”

As the two singers ducked into the subway tunnels, quickly being ushered deeper by various military and police personnel, Jonghyun ce and was able to witness the man launch his round shield like a frisbee and decapitate yet another alien creature.

Reaching the masses of other people in the tunnels and relative safety, Jonghyun felt his legs give way, dragging Onew down with him as he fell. Clutching his chest, he tried his hardest to regulate his breathing but was finding it difficult. Onew was a star; he seemed to have pushed back his own fear and panic (for he must have been feeling it) and channelled his efforts into comforting Jonghyun. The people around them seemed to understand, offering small murmurs of comfort or gentle pats on the shoulder of the two, as they all waited for the all-clear.

“How are we alive?” Jonghyun asked in Korean once his breathing steadied a little.

It had been a rhetorical question and certainly not directed at anybody, but Onew answered him nonetheless. “A lot of luck and a hero.”

Jonghyun breathed in a deep shuddering breath, his yes feeling misty as the intensity of their situation caught up to him. “A hero indeed.”

-

They remained in those tunnels for almost ten hours before they were allowed to leave. The many, many people were slowly filtered out in small groups.

The survivors had started to organise themselves around hour six, with people grouping by various categories as instructed by the authorities present. The high priority groups, those that left first, were the groups that contained people who required the most care; people who were sick, elderly or were with children. They were taken from the tunnels and driven to hospitals and care centres ready and waiting off the island. Each person was identified and registered upon leaving.

The second group to leave were those who lived off island; mainly those from New Jersey, Brooklyn, Queens and the like, though some were from much further afield in the US – tourists and travelling business people. According to the police, only Manhattan had sustained any damage, so these people were able to return to their homes and their lives a little easier than those who lived on the island proper.

The final two groups were the most difficult to organise for those in charge. They were those who lived on Manhattan Island and those who were tourists from other nations.

Those who lived on the island were taken by bus to a temporary refuge somewhere off island until the stability of the buildings on the island could be assessed. The silent group moved quickly, looking worried, not just for any loved ones they may have but for their homes, their pets, their entire lives. There was a chance that these people could have lost everything.

The final group, the tourists, all looked a little shell-shocked but were mostly healthy. They had been herded together with orders to wait for a few hours, as the various embassies and consulates involved were contacted. In that time, one man, a doctor from Germany on vacation with his wife, had tended to the wounds on Jonghyun’s hands and had wrapped them in bandages distributed by a concerned police officer. He had also fixed up a terrified looking Japanese woman’s split eyebrow which, despite being a small wound, had bled copiously, obscuring her vision and staining the neck of her shirt a deep red-brown colour.

If either Jonghyun or Onew had been focussed enough, they would have found it a little worrying, considering the number of staff at the theatre, that they were the only Koreans in the tunnels. However, their exhaustion and shock had caught up to them hours before and neither man was in much state to consider anything but getting out of their temporary refuge and hoping their friends had made it off the island in time.

Following a brief phone call – via military satellite phone to another city as the cell service was down and the main office was on the island – with the Korean embassy, to assure that they were ok, the two were directed to a hotel off the main island where they would be staying until they could find a way home. They had asked the embassy if they had news on those they knew but the poor staff had been rushed and frantic as they tried to deal with the sheer volume of affected Koreans and had been unable to answer their questions.

“We’re going to have to cancel our concert.” Jonghyun commented, as the tourists were herded onto the bus.

Onew let out a started, slightly strangled laugh and looked at his blonde friend incredulously. “That’s your biggest worry here?”

Settling into the strangely lumpy bus seat, Jonghyun sighed, resting his head against the cold window. The cool glass was soothing to the headache he hadn’t even realised he had, “No. But I hate letting down out fans.”

“I’m sure they’ll understand.” Onew said. Running a hand through his hair, he grimaced when his fingers became tangled in the matted strands and he attempted to remove the knots gently. Pulling his hand away he was a little startled to see flakes of dried blood on his fingers and drifting through the still air of the bus, but soon came to realise it was likely from Jonghyun’s wounded hands and their initial arrival into the tunnels. From their collapsed position on the floor, Jonghyun had spent a good ten minutes checking over his leader to make sure he had no hidden injuries, seemingly unaware that he himself was likely more injured.

Jonghyun hummed in agreement, looking out the window as they drove through streets and streets worth of destruction. The majority buildings were mostly intact; none seemed to have come down completely. However, the facades of most were crumbled and destroyed, glass was strewn across the streets in jagged pieces and previously glowing neon signs were dull and blank, their neon tubes just glittery, smashed debris on the ground.

The road the bus was driving on had obviously been cleared for their exit, likely contributing to the time it took to leave. After four hours in the tunnels, all sounds of explosions and fighting had completely ceased and, after six, the authorities had changed their actions a little; starting the groupings and coordinating their leaving. The subsequent six hours must have involved this, the cleaning of the roads and the organisation of vans and trucks for the displaced people.

The areas to each side of the main thoroughfare were strewn with debris, chunks of stone, pieces of glass and multiple bent and twisted cars; all seemed to have been shoved aside uncaringly, in order to clear the way. The road was busy, with many other vans and buses driving along the same route, all with the intention of leaving the island.

“We’ll have make some kind of video apology, to explain what happened. Gather the others as a group.” Jonghyun said without thinking, before clamping his hand over his mouth and looking sick.

Onew could hear the younger man’s thoughts loud and clear and could feel the fear that pulsed through him. He could feel it because it was the same thing he felt. He could hear it because his thoughts were no different. Pulling the man into a hug he let out his own shuddering breath and murmured gibberish into the man’s grubby blonde locks. The action was intended to comfort the smaller man but, honestly, it provided Onew with just as much comfort as the one he was trying to help.

Words weren’t necessary as the two tried to push down their fears. They didn’t know what had happened to the other three members of their group or any of the staff they had brought with them. There was no use in breaking down just to find out they were ok all along. However, the fear was present and right then, on a bus surrounded by other lost and confused foreigners, they were all they had.

-

It turned out their fears and worries were unfounded. The other members had decided to take a trip to Brooklyn to see the bridge and the other sights with the remainder of their afternoon after leaving the theatre. They had been nowhere near the blast zone.

They too had been required to take shelter in the subway tunnels for safety, the two oldest members of the group had been informed. However, the most they had noticed the fight was the occasional crash or roar. There was no damage in Brooklyn, no debris lining the streets and no aliens with hot, rancid breath and claws like razors.

They were fine.

In fact, they had been almost catatonic with fear for Onew and Jonghyun whom they had thought they had lost.

That wasn’t to say their group had gotten out unscathed. Two staff members who had remained at the theatre had been injured to the point of hospitalisation. One was a stage hand who had fallen and hit her head on part of the stage, her concussion was severe and they had been very worried for her for a while. The other was a lighting technician who required a surgery to repair his leg which had been crushed under some debris as the front wall fell. The news of this injury had made Jonghyun clutch Onew’s hand tightly. The similarities were too much and the fear of what might have happened washed over him anew. Key had noticed the action and had also moved closer to provide comfort. Despite knowing that the rapper did not understand the situation – the two had kept many of the details from the others, not feeling it necessary to tell – Jonghyun appreciated his empathy and sent him a grateful, if shaky, smile.

-

Three months later, and all was well.

Mostly.

Many people were still reeling from the events in New York and many more were avoiding the city altogether, tourism had dropped dramatically and many businesses were clearly struggling. However, most residents of Manhattan were stubborn and refused to leave. From the news reports and first-person accounts posted online, life was carrying on as normal; or as normal as life could be with the sudden addition of a team of superheroes in their town.

Due to this, SHINee decided to carry on with their tour – though slightly delayed – and play their show as planned. There were many, many fans in the New York area and many more willing to travel to the area for a SHINee show. Even now.

The group had actually cancelled their entire North American leg of their tour following their entanglement with the aliens. Luckily for the worldwide fans, the North American stop was the final country they were due to play in and so the fans in Japan, South America, parts of Europe and on their home turf, Korea, did not suffer cancelled shows. The whole group were happy about that, they would hate to disappoint too many people – as it was, they had had to cancel three North American shows and they felt guilty about that. However, Jonghyun and Onew were unable to carry on as they had been. The stress and fear from that day affected them for a while longer than they would like to admit.

Initially, the two had seemed to be acting as normal; which in itself had been concerning to many people. They had returned to Korea and seemed to be operating as they usually did. But as the days passed, people close to them realised that things were not all perfect. Jonghyun was jumpy when startled and had a large aversion to feeling people’s breath on his skin – which was triggered by close contact and hugs especially. Onew was careful with one of his legs, which was noticeable in dance practices, and seemed more nervous of small spaces than he had previously. They both were more clingy, more affectionate, with each other and with their friends.

These things were not major, considering what they had been through. They could not be described as dealing with what had happened poorly in any way. SM Entertainment had still decided to send them to weekly therapy sessions just in case and to keep their schedules to a minimum for the three months post the incident, however. All five members of SHINee understood and appreciated this, although Taemin and Key especially felt a little stifled and bored by the lack of anything to do; but they understood the reasoning nonetheless.

Their fans understood too.

When they had been approached about their opinion on the North American tour dates – given the options to reschedule or to cancel the tour completely – they had all been more than willing to continue the tour.

On arrival on the island, all the members of SHINee could think was that New York had bounced back fast. Clean-up was complete to a degree that allowed the city to function once more within the week following the attack, much thanks to a ragtag band of superheroes and now, three months on, it was functioning almost as normal.

Their first walk through the city was interesting. They had just wandered around near their hotel one evening, enjoying the vibe and atmosphere of the city. The three members who had been in Brooklyn at the time of the attack spent most of the time looking edgily at their alien-encountering friends; who, for their part, pretended not to notice and just enjoyed their little excursion. The three seemed worried that being back in the city would trigger something in the oldest members of their group; some repressed memories, a panic of some kind, anything. However, Jonghyun and Onew did not react in any concerning way. When asked about it in an interview later – a question that had garnered the interviewer a protective glare from Key – they had explained that the city was so different in the current day to how it appeared during the attack. The sky was a normal blue colour, with wispy clouds and a few birds gliding overhead, the buildings were intact and shiny and the streets were full of people. It was almost night and day from how it appeared during the alien attack.

Due to the company’s fear of the two getting edgy and freaking out on arrival, SM Entertainment had scheduled SHINee to arrive a few days early. This allowed a lot of free time which was mostly spent wandering the city and sightseeing. And, everywhere the group went, they were bombarded with images of a certain superhero team.

“She’s just so…” Taemin flailed his arms as he reclined on his bed one evening, trying to explain his feelings. “So.” He concluded, his hands making a gesture that could be taken as mimicking a body shape.

“She could also kick your .” Key deadpanned, not even looking at the younger man.

Taemin huffed and rolled over to look at the rapper, who was sat on the bed opposite texting someone. “Not like I’m gonna meet her.”

“She is a really impressive woman though.” Key acquiesced.

Each member had become enamoured with the superhero team in the same way most of the world had. They found them fascinating and, being so close to the epicentre of their activities, made the whole hero thing so much more real and interesting. This discussion had happened many many times before and each time new levels of adoration were revealed.

“I think the Hulk is cool.” Minho commented from the small couch in the corner, “He looks super strong.”

“You look super…” Taemin went to mimic the man’s exact words, before realising that the other male would take that as a compliment, as it rightfully was. “Ugly.”

“Good comeback.” Jonghyun snorted. He and Onew were sat at the room’s small table both poring over something laid out there.

As the others all discussed and researched the superheroes, the two older members had listened and absorbed all the information they could. After all, Captain America had saved their life. However, whilst their group mates were researching and obsessing for purely entertainment purposes, because it was interesting and the group were cool, Onew and Jonghyun learned due to their thankfulness. They owed everything to their hero in red, white and blue.

“Do you think we should include a picture?” Onew asked, looking up at his blonde groupmate.

Jonghyun scratched the back of his head looking thoughtful. “Yeah, probably.”

“What are you even doing over there?” Key asked.

Onew held up what he was writing. From the distance he was at, Key was unable to read what the paper said. Huffing to himself, he pulled himself to his feet and ambled over. Scanning the information quickly he made a noise of understanding and approval.

“You need to include a picture.” The rapper agreed.

“What address do we even send this to?” Onew asked.

-

“Capcicle, you have mail.” Tony Stark commented, as he dumped the latest delivery of fan mail on the couch next to the man out of time.

Each week the Avengers received a carefully curated amount of fan mail. Tony had a section of his mailroom dedicated to his team. They would receive the mail, sort out the crazy death threats and inappropriate content, then sort the rest by member and theme. Tony often received peoples designs for new weaponry (which he never used and instead stored sealed in a room in case those people ever tried to sue him for stealing ideas). Natasha received lots of propositions from awed young (and old) men, letters that Tony didn’t ask to be filtered out due to the amusement he received whenever she read one. Clint received a lot of fan art for reasons no one could determine. Hulk didn’t receive much at all as few people knew he and Bruce were one and the same and it was obvious that the Hulk was not living at the Avengers tower. Some letters were deep and meaningful, some contained constructive criticism, some were just plain adoration but the group appreciated each and every one.

That isn’t to say that they received insane amounts of mail. They never asked for it and though they replied to the key ones, they never drew attention to the mail in any other way. Thus many people didn’t realise they even could send letters to their favourite, or least favourite superheroes.

“Oh,” Tony said, suddenly remembering, “One in there is time sensitive. An invitation to something apparently. It’s labelled.”

That said, he sat down on one of the other couches in the room, casually folding one of his legs over the other and reclining, arms extended out along the back of the couch. He always enjoyed watching the other man opening mail. He was so awkward about it, it was adorable.

There was a shuffling from near the door and the genius looked up as Hawkeye and the Black Widow entered the room. The two spies moved around the room with no real purpose. Clint wandered towards the bookshelf, looking for something to entertain himself. Natasha just hovered near the edges of the room, watching the others with interest and seemingly not sure about whether to approach the kitchen or not.

“Cap got his mail delivery.” Tony commented, at Clint’s intrigued look at the bag.

“I had guessed,” the professional spy said. However, he moved towards the couch to watch. He was very much in agreement with Tony here; he found the blonde man’s reactions amusing to watch. Dropping down on the soft seat with an audible thump, the man grinned, “Wonder if you’ll get more explicit artwork. That last one was beautiful.”

The captain blushed visibly and looked at the bag with barely veiled worry, “I hope not.”

Natasha also moved towards them, perching on the arm of the sofa. Tony was sure Pepper would be having an aneurism to see this, she was protective of their furniture, but Tony himself couldn’t care less about prober seating etiquette.

“Go on then, get started.” The billionaire ordered, waving one arm imperiously.

“Whatever you say, Tony.” Steve said, looking like he was already far too used to the man’s behaviour. Honestly, they had only been living here for a few months and he felt he already knew all the man’s quirks.

Over the course of the next thirty minutes or so, the man pulled various letters and notes from the bag. Some drew laughs, some drew tears – usually from Steve, though Tony also teared up at some, the spies showed no reaction – and others drew confusion and disbelief.

“This is so cute.” Steve exclaimed, holding up a drawing that had clearly been drawn by a child. It depicted Captain America looking triumphant – or as triumphant as a kid’s drawing could look – and saving a woman from a building being consumed by red, yellow and orange crayon flames.

“It’s adorable.” Natasha said, her deadpan voice at odds with her words. “But we have an interview in an hour. We need to wrap this party up.”

The captain nodded and began to carefully file the opened mail away and rearrange the unopened envelopes so they didn’t get bent or crushed in storage.

“Wait!” Tony said, “Time sensitive one, remember.”

“Oh, right.” Steve agreed, digging through the bag once more. “I saw it here somewhere.”

He made noise of triumph as he pulled the labelled letter out and made quick work of slitting it open with a letter opener – an honest to god letter opener, Tony didn’t even know where the man had found such a thing – and removing the contents of the envelope.

He pulled out a single sheet of paper which was obviously a letter. The note appeared to be written by an adult, although the penmanship and the fluency led him to believe that the writer was not a native speaker of the language. Scanning the letter, this belief was confirmed and he smiled softly at the contents.

“Whose it from?” Tony asked, a little impatiently.

“A couple of people I helped during the Chitauri invasion. They wanted to say thanks.”

Taking the letter from Steve’s hand, an action that the man hadn’t expected, Tony too scanned the letter, reading faster than Steve had been able to and thus actually finishing it.

“This is nice of them.” He said, “Do you remember them?”

Steve looked embarrassed and ran a hand through his hair, looking down. “I helped a lot of people that day.”

Tony made a humming noise and reached for the abandoned envelope, pulling out two further items, which had been mentioned in the letter proper.

“Remember them now?” He asked, showing the man a Polaroid photograph that had been included. It featured two men of Asian descent, Korean according to their letter, seated in a hotel room. One had bright dyed blonde hair and the other sported a more muted chestnut brown. Both were smiling and throwing up the peace sign.  

“Oh!” Steve said, eyes lighting up in recognition as he looked at the picture. They looked a little different, not caked in dirt and blood, but they were memorable enough. The small scar he could see on the blonde man’s left hand, indicative of a deep scrape wound, was further proof.

“This one,” He indicated, pointing to the man on the right, “Jinki…” he said haltingly, squinting to read the foreign sounding name written on to the picture in ball-point pen (in two languages he noticed, though he could only read one of them), “was trapped under some rubble. Jonghyun,” he stumbled badly over this name and butchered the pronunciation, not that anyone in the room realised, “attracted my attention and needed my help.  He couldn’t speak English. I think they were tourists. I helped them to the subway tunnels. They must have been so scared.”

“Always the hero,” Tony chuckled. “Anyway, apparently they’re super famous in Korea or something.”

“Famous in Korea?” Clint asked, from his place on the couch. “Like kpop stars?” Seeing the looks both Natasha and Tony were sending him, he defended himself quickly, “What? I did an operation there once. I needed to know the lay of the land or whatever. Kpop is important over there.”

“Sure bird man, sure.” Tony said, disbelieving. “I know you watch it for the scantily clad women.”

“Says the man who clearly knows more about it than me.” Clint said, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, but I’m not ashamed to appreciate a beautiful woman.” Tony gloated.

“This pissing contest is all well and good,” Natasha grouched, “But we’re late and there was something else in the envelope.”

“Oh right.” Tony said, holding up his prize. “Tickets to their New York concert. They included enough for the whole team, plus Pep. They clearly did their research.”

Taking back the letter, Steve finished scanning it and read out the final paragraph, “This is really sweet. ‘We cannot give much. We want to say thank you but words are small. You saved our lifes. So we thought… we could show you our life. To say thank you. It’s not much. It’s nothing. But you helped us and we thank you very much. Regards, Jinki and Jonghyun.’”

“That is sweet.” Natasha commented. “So are we going to this meeting, we’re officially late now?”

“Of course! We’re going to this concert too.” Steve grinned. “But what’s kpop?”