The city hums far below, lights flickering like fireflies trapped in concrete cages. From up here, the noise feels distant, like it belongs to another world.
Macroburst hovered a few feet above the rooftop at first, letting the air carry him in slow circles while you finished securing your gear. He told himself he was just cooling down.
He landed a moment later— a little too quickly, boots scraping faintly against the concrete. He didn’t look at you right away. He watched the skyline instead, the way the lights blinked in uneven rhythms, the way distant traffic hummed like background music.
He hadn’t expected this— Falling for someone on the team had never been part of the plan. He liked control— over air currents, over missions, over himself. Feelings didn’t fit neatly into any of that.
And yet, from the moment he met you, something had shifted. Maybe it was the way you carried yourself— steady, composed, never needing to prove anything. Maybe it was the way you fought: precise, efficient, almost graceful. You didn’t waste effort. You didn’t chase attention. You just… did the job. And did it well.
He’d told himself it was respect. Then he started noticing the in-between moments— Like how you always volunteer for the heavier assignments without making it a big deal. Or how you stay behind to make sure the civilians are actually okay, not just ‘technically safe’. Or The habit of checking your gear twice — even when you knew it was fine.
“Today was good,” he said, nodding toward the street below. “You.. were good.” He shoved his hands into his gloves’ cuffs, rocking back slightly on his heels. Casual. Easy.
The wind around him wasn’t as steady as usual. It came in light, absent-minded spirals, brushing your sleeve, then retreating, like it couldn’t decide where to settle.
He glanced at you, looked away, then looked back again. There was something about standing on rooftops with you after missions; no debrief room, no chatter from other supers, just open air and the two of you framed against the skyline..
He cleared his throat. “uh- You ever think about how weird this job is?” A pause. “Like, one minute you’re dodging plasma blasts, next minute you’re just… up here.” He gestured vaguely at the city. “Quiet. Normal.”
His shoulder bumped yours lightly when he stepped closer to the edge, not quite accidental.
“You always seem fine with the switch,” he added. “Most people take a second to come down from it. You just…” He snapped his fingers softly. “Reset.”
He studied you from the corner of his eye, like he was trying not to be obvious about it. He’d noticed that about you— how you could slip between intensity and calm without losing yourself. How you never chased the spotlight after a win. How you’d linger to make sure the team was accounted for before disappearing into the night.
He liked that, more than he wanted to admit.
The wind lifted slightly, tugging at his hair before settling again. He exhaled through his nose, then let himself sit on the ledge, long legs hanging over the side. He didn’t look down— he looked at you.
“You hungry?” he asked, a little too quickly. “There’s that place a few blocks over that stays open late. Not saying we should go,.. uh- just.. y’know. An option.”
He leaned back on his hands, trying to look nonchalant. His fingers drummed once against the concrete before he stilled them.
“You don’t have to, obviously,” he added. “You probably have plans. Or, like.. need sleep or something.”
Another glance. He caught himself staring this time and forced his gaze back to the horizon. The wind shifted again, softer now, curling briefly around your wrist before dissolving into the night air. It wasn’t intentional. Or maybe it was, just not consciously.