A hero and a villain sat together, cuddling on a rooftop while wrapped in the villain's dark blue cloak and watching the sunset over the island. To a civilian observer, this would be quite the odd sight. After all, weren't these two people supposed to be mortal enemies?
The red-clad pyrokinetic hero, whose alias was Azar, sighed in contentment as he glanced at his supposed rival. "Hey, Bedlam. You want to know something?"
"Hmm?" the bald, armored villain asked. He was half-asleep, comfortable in their shared warmth, but he stirred at the question. "Oh, yeah. What is it?"
The hero chuckled. "You're the only constant thing in my life right now."
"I'm not surprised," Bedlam said, cracking a smile.
"From what you told me last week, your life has been a hot mess recently."
They shared a soft laugh.
"Seriously, though, I don't know what I'd do without you," Azar continued. "I mean, you're the one who's always here when I need to stress-relieve. I feel safe with you."
"That's good to hear," the villain said, flexing his fingers inside his gauntlets. "I'm glad that I'm able to provide some kind of comfort for you."
The two of them lapsed back into peaceful quiet for a few minutes, until Azar spoke again.
"Remember when we first met?"
Bedlam nodded, smiling fondly. "Yeah, of course I do. How could I forget? You tried to set me on fire."
Azar poked Bedlam in the shoulder. "Hey, that was after you abducted the mayor and tried to blow up his office."
"Yep," Bedlam said with a wistful tone. "Back in the good old days, before I went bald. Gods, was that really eight years ago? It's crazy to think that we were only sixteen back then."
"Yeah," Azar agreed, shaking his head. "We were so young. Who thought it was a good idea for me to be a crime-fighter at that age? It's kind of scary."
Bedlam's hazel eyes gazed at something nobody else could see. He paused for a moment before responding.
"More so for me," he pointed out. "I mean, I grew up learning how to be a criminal without powers in a world full of supers, so my mom started teaching me martial arts when I was six. And then when I got older, Dad let me in the workshop where he made all his gadgets. I was building my own weapons and handling explosives by my fifteenth birthday."
Azar's eyebrows arched. "Sounds dangerous."
Bedlam nodded. "You don't know the half of it."
Azar closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. They were a dark shade of blue, contrasting with his brown skin. He leaned his head on Bedlam's broad shoulder.
"You know, you were my first real friend," Bedlam said. "Did I ever tell you that I was homeschooled my whole life?"
"I think so, yeah," Azar replied. "Your dad sounds like he was pretty strict, from what you told me."
Bedlam nodded. "He was a strict guy, yeah. Firm.
Not a bad parent, though, at least by villain standards."
Azar chuckled. "Kind of a low bar, isn't it?"
Bedlam laughed. "You aren't wrong there."
They watched the brilliant red of the setting California sun. When night fell over Roku Island like a blanket of soothing darkness, the two of them remained together.
For almost a full hour, they lay together in comfort, listening to the ambience of the capital city.
Eventually, Bedlam spoke again. "I think I'm just about done with being a villain, honestly. The reason I started all those years ago was mostly just because I didn't want to disappoint my dad, but now that's he's dead..."
He trailed off with a soft sigh.
"Hey," Azar said gently, looking Bedlam in the eyes.
"I'll do whatever I can to support you, alright? You aren't alone here."
Bedlam smiled warmly. "Thank you, genuinely. I want you to know that I appreciate everything you've done for me."
"Of course," Azar said.
"I really don't know what I want to do with my life,"
Bedlam said after a long moment of quiet. "Mom always told me I could do anything, with my intellect. But I'm having trouble deciding what exactly I want to do. Being a villain is all I've known for the last eight years. Who am I without the cape and mask?"
"I guess we'll have to find out," Azar responded, taking Bedlam's armored hand in his own and squeezing gently. "Together."
"Together," Bedlam echoed fondly. "Yeah. I like the sound of that."
"Me, too."
They stared into each other's eyes for a long, tender moment, warm hazel meeting sapphire-blue. After eight years of rivalry that turned into friendship, they both knew more about the other than anybody else alive.
The two of them continued talking and cuddling on the rooftop well into the morning, and they were happy.
