WOLVES WITHOUT TEETH, miyuki kazuya

two

chapter two

❛need something that i can confess ('til all my sleeves are stained red)❜

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You knew your day wasn't going to be great. The drone and then the third degree you suffered during lunch proved that. At least things were fine in the city but this — being face to face with the one person who knows you the best, the one person who could probably figure out who you are...

It's not great.

You jump to your feet. Too quickly, you guess, by the way he tenses and takes several steps back, eyeing you warily.

You can only imagine what you must look like to him.

You didn't take after Spider-Man's red and blue color scheme, opting for black and white — mostly black. The mask is the same, with the big white eyes, and then a hood over that. Despite working hard to be the 'friendly neighborhood Spider-Woman,' you still use your slightly-creepy appearance (at night anyway) and powers to your advantage. Delphi says you look like an eldritch creature sometimes.

With the low lighting in the neighborhood and the full moon above your heads, you understand his unease.

Still. You would rather die than ever hurt him.

Miyuki Kazuya. Your best friend. You've known him for over sixteen years. You've been with him through everything.

Everything.

And the way he looks at you now, not like his best friend, but a stranger, a dangerous stranger... something inside you crumples.

Your chest feels heavy, each breath, each beat of your heart harder than the last.

Your fingers twitch to unmask, to reveal yourself and say, Don't look at me like that. You know who I am. You know me. Everything about me. I would never hurt you. Never.

You've avoided seeing the others like this. Mostly because you fear they might recognize you, the shape of your body, the way you move.

You avoid Kazuya for the same reasons. And you knew, if you ever did stumble into him, you two wouldn't exactly be buddy-buddy. But thinking that and actually being faced with it are two different things. This hostility. This guarded expression, this distrust — it hurts more than you would like to admit. Even if you should know better and should've realized it, that the others would regard you with wonder and amazement but not him. Never him.

You know why he doesn't like her.

Spider-Woman, you mean.

He sees you as trouble.

Not the good kind, either, not the kind that comes in the form of a hot-headed, passionate Southpaw pitcher with a moving fastball, with a pitching style just waiting to be turned into something great. Not a tricky batter he has to figure out how to strike out, not a pitcher he has to break down.

You are none of that.

You are the kind of trouble that brings danger, bad luck, and misfortune. You are the kind of trouble that would put his life in danger.

"Well?"

You shake your head quickly.

"No? No to what? No to leaving?"

You open your mouth. The back of your neck explodes into tingles no don't say anything don't open your mouth he will know hewillknow —

Stop. Stop. Just stop.