Three days. You were kept in the hospital for three days. Three days of IV's, probing, blood pressure being taken, bad hospital beds, worse hospital food, and no access to news about whether or not Spider-Man made it out of the collapsed bank.
At first, you didn't even remember the bank hold up. You had woken up after passing out from a concussion and blood loss in a white hospital room, beeping all around you. Fear had raced down your spine; was there an accident? Why was there an IV in your arm? What had happened? It wasn't until you saw the dirt covered, tear streaked face of Alex sitting in the chair next to your bed that it all came back to you.
No one would tell you anything. When you asked the doctors when you could go home, they would respond with numbers and stats that didn't make any sense to you. When you asked your mom if you could watch the news, she would say you weren't allowed to look at screens until your head was better. When you asked to check the news on your phone, she explained how your phone had been left in the rubble of the building, and they would have to get you a new one.
Only Alex would tell you anything about the attack. She explained how the bank had collapsed, how the body of the weapons dealer had been recovered, how it had been the only body recovered. You didn't want to get your hopes up; even though he was a superhero, he must have his limits, right? Could he really survive an entire building collapsing on him? And if he could, was it possible for him to get away without injury? The rumor mill was a ghost town, as no one claimed to have seen Spider-Man escape, and no claimed to have seen him since. He had vanished into thin air, and no one knew when he would be back.
The day you were discharged, you spent the night on your fire escape, positive that Spider-Man would show up. He had agreed that after every major battle and fight, he would be there to let you know he was okay, something you needed to know now more than ever. More than that, you thought for sure that he would want to know about you. Although the mask prevented you from seeing his face, you had heard the way Spider-Man said your name when he saw you in the bank, and when he left you at the ambulance. It was unlike anything you had ever heard before, like a song about a life you'd forgotten. You had heard it, and you knew he had heard it. So you waited on the fire escape, counting the stars until he swung onto the metal balcony and back into your life.
Except he never did. You spent the entire night outside, eventually falling asleep, only to wake up with a headache and a heart full of disappointment. Still, you refused to give up. You thought that maybe he still believed you to be in the hospital, and that he would surely visit you within the next few days, if not the very next night.
But it never happened. Night after night, you waited under the Queens skyline. And, night after night, you awoke both alone and lonely.
Days passed. August ended. Eventually, you stopped waiting. You had to, as two weeks after the bank incident, school began again. You had more to worry about than a superhero leaving you hanging. You had a life before Spider-Man, and-you were a little surprised to find-you had a life after him, as well.
It only took a week for you to fall back into the routine of school. Between classes, extracurricular activities, and studying, you barely had time to worry about what you would eat for dinner, so it went without saying that you didn't have time to worry about a superhero. Be that as it may, however, you couldn't stop feeling him around you.
It first happened a few days before the start of school. You were walking home from a little grocery store just as the sun was beginning to set, both hands full of bags of food. Headphones in, you hummed along to your favourite song as you made your way down the street. It was strangely quiet-peaceful, almost-when, from the corner of your eye, you saw a flash of red. You had paused, took out a headphone, and looked around you for the cause, but there was nothing. At first, you didn't think anything of it; you had always had a powerful imagination, and thought that this was just you projecting what you wanted to see into your real life. You had shrugged your shoulders, slipped your headphone back in your ear, and continued your walk home.
Despite your rationalization, however, you couldn't help feeling like someone was watching you. Whether it was walking home to and from the subway, making late night grocery runs, or walking to dinner with friends, it seemed like every time you stepped foot out of the house, you weren't alone. Even your fire escape, which had always felt so disconnected from the rest of the world, felt like you were under surveillance by someone.
It was the most frustrating thing in the world. You wanted nothing more than to see Spider-Man again, yet you knew that, even if he wasn't dead (you shuddered mentally as you thought the word), you would have to move on without him; your life didn't stop barrelling forward just because one summer changed you. But how do you move on from someone when you still feel them all around you? After you lose someone, do you go back to the you that you were before you met them? Or do you stay this new person, not quite the same, missing a piece of what made you into the you that you had become?
And the worst part, worse than the radio silence, worse than still feeling Spider-Man around, worse than not knowing yourself anymore, worse than all that, was that with your life continuing on as it had, you weren't allowed to mourn the hero. No one had known how close the two of you had been, so when he disappeared, you couldn't act any more broken up than anyone else. Everyone else mentioned how sad it was that he was gone in passing between classes, so you did too. Someone casually asked where Spider-Man had been lately, and you had to act uninterested as another classmate relayed the information about the accident. While it was true that you had stopped waiting for him to show up on your fire escape, and you had stopped worrying about when you would see him next, you couldn't stop feeling heartbroken over Spider-Man's absence in the world. You did, however, have to act like you weren't.
Although no one really knew the extent of your and Spider-Man's relationship, everyone knew that he had saved you twice. It only took two weeks into the school year for someone to bring him up with you personally. The thing was, it wasn't someone you ever thought would.
Peter Parker, your chemistry partner for the semester, brought up the subject after academic decathlon on your third Monday back at school. You two had been friendlier this year than you had last, due to a mutual interest: passing AP chemistry. Although you weren't extremely close, you found you liked Peter and his personality; he was ridiculously smart, a little awkward, and always managed to make a bad joke that would make you laugh. Even with becoming (you could confidently say) friends, you hadn't pegged him for someone who would pry into personal business, believing him too shy for that. But, not for the first time, you were proven wrong.
After leaving the academic decathlon meeting, you both began walking towards the subway, as you took the same train home. Walking together had started after last week's decathlon meeting, and continued on days when chemistry was your last class. Peter hadn't been very talkative at first, but as you two became friendlier, he came out of his shell more. He would ask questions about you, and you asked questions about him. So far, they hadn't been anything you wouldn't admit to a casual classmate. Today, however, his questions had drifted in a different direction.
You could tell something was up. He had barely said a word to you all day, and the entire walk to the subway and following subway ride took place in complete silence. You wanted to ask him what was wrong, but you didn't want to invade his space. It wasn't until you had exited the subway and were back on the sidewalks of Queens that he finally spoke up.
"So," Peter began, stuffing his hands in his pockets and looking at the ground. "How's, um, how's your head?"
Almost unconsciously, you raised a hand to your forehead, where the armed man had hit you with his gun. "Well, it's all healed now, I just have a bit of a scar. Hopefully it'll fade with time? I'm not a huge fan of walking around like Harry Potter for the rest of my life, you know? I'm not sure I could pull it off."
Peter let out a small laugh. "I'm sure you'd pull it off just fine, Y/N."
You smiled. "Thank you."
"I've been-" Peter took a breath, and you glanced at him with a mix of worry and curiosity. "I've been meaning to ask you about, um, about how you've been holding up."
"I've been fine," You shrugged, keeping your eyes trained straight ahead. "It was scary, but I came out okay. Why do you ask?"
"Well, I just..." Peter seemed to be trying to decide on how he should word his answer. "I know it must have been really traumatic, to see something like that, and then to see Spider-Man run back inside-"
"I mean, yeah, being held hostage sucked, and I wouldn't wish it to happen to anyone, but I'm not really sure what you mean about Spider-Man?" You tried to keep your voice as neutral as possible.
"I just meant-because, like-" Peter began stumbling over his words, a sign he was incredibly nervous. "I know he saved you last spring, and, you know, now no one's heard from him at all-not that he's dead! I don't mean like that, just that-like, being there-"
"Peter, it's okay," You stopped walking and laid a hand against his arm for a moment. "I don't know if he's-if he's dead or not, and the thought of it is really..." You struggled to think of the right word. "...upsetting. He was a good guy. Like, genuinely a good guy. I miss him-like, I miss having him in Queens, I mean."
"Yeah," Peter nodded, and you resumed walking. "Yeah, I get it. I just think that, maybe, you meant a lot to Spider-Man, and maybe-you know, maybe-he meant a lot to you?"
You shook your head and laughed once without humour. "I didn't mean a lot to Spider-Man. We-he saved me once, kept my drawing, and then saved me again. I was just part of his job."
Pretending to not know Spider-Man, to not miss him the way you did, made your heart ache desperately. You tried to seem casual in your conversation, hoping not to let anything slip that would set off alarms in Peter's head.
"Don't say that, Y/N," Peter's voice sounded heavier than you had ever heard before. "I know you, and there's no way that we-there's no way Spider-Man met you and didn't think the world of you."
You felt your heart speed up, and tried to decipher the meaning in Peter's words. Where had that come from?
Before you could ask, however, there was a rumble from the sky above. The previously overcast day had become darker as the two of you walked, and rain drops began to fall from the sky. You shivered, pulling down the long sleeves you had pushed up to your elbows earlier.
"Here," Peter said quickly, slipping his backpack off and pulling off his own hoodie. "You can take this."
"Peter, no," You shook your head. "What's the use if one of us is still going to get soaked?"
"I have a sweater still, and my apartment is closer." Peter held out the jacket to you. "Please, Y/N? Just take it."
With a sigh, you accepted the hoodie and slipped it on, zipping it up. Peter smiled at you and slung his backpack over his shoulder again.
"You better get going," He said, glancing up at the sky. "I heard it's going to be a stormy night, and I don't want you getting caught in it."
"You're probably right," You conceded, turning to the right to make your way to your block. "I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Yeah, for sure." Peter gave a small wave as he watched you walk up your street. Once he knew you were gone, he ducked into the alleyway behind the deli to his left, and unzipped his backpack. Quickly, so as not to be seen, he pulled out his Spider-Man suit.
The storm raged on into the night, knocking out the power around ten pm. Despite having school tomorrow, the thunder and lightning kept you from falling asleep so much that by midnight, you had given up. Instead, you sat by the window of your bedroom, knees tucked under your chin as you stared out at the Queens skyline.
With no power, and no stars visible, it all just looked like a dark blur. Everything that made you love the city was invisible, blocked out by the hurricane raging outside your window. With a sigh, you laid your head against your arm, which was still covered by Peter's hoodie. It was a comfortable article of clothing-worn in, soft, and smelling unmistakably of Peter; a bit of musk mixed with a touch of vanilla. Closing your eyes, you breathed in the scent, letting it envelop you in the safety it inspired.
A crash from the fire escape interrupted your thoughts. Your eyes quickly opened, and you peered out your window to see what had happened. At first, the darkness prevented you from making out anything at all, and you thought maybe it was Reginald the cat, caught in the storm. After another moment, however, you realized the true cause.
Your eyes widened and you ripped open your window, zipping Peter's hoodie up tighter as you climbed out into the storm. Immediately, your face was pelted with water and you shut the window behind you to keep your room from flooding. Wiping rainwater out of your eyes, you tried your best to focus on the masked hero standing in front of you.
Spider-Man stared at you, not saying anything at all. Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest with how hard it was pounding, and you almost swore that it was louder than the crash of thunder overhead.
Finally, after what seemed like eternity, Spider-Man spoke up.
"I'm sorry if I woke you up," He began. "I, um, I kind of slipped."
"Slipped from where?" You were surprised you were able to form the sentence.
"From...from your roof," Spider-Man answered, looking down at the ground.
"From my...have you been following me?" You questioned, pushing your already soaking hair out of your face.
"...A bit." Spider-Man still refused to meet your eyes again.
"So-so you let me think that you were-that you were dead," You repeated incredulously. "You let me think that you were dead while you followed me around Queens for the past month?"
"Y/N." The way Spider-Man said your name caught you off guard. He spoke with purpose dripping from every syllable, like your name was the most important thing he had ever said. "After the bank, I...I thought it might be best. If we-if we weren't friends."
You stared at him, not sure of how to respond. Your heart continued to beat furiously.
"You almost died that day," Spider-Man finally looked up at you. "And it wasn't even because you knew me. It was just because you were a civilian, in the wrong place at the wrong time. Could you imagine how much worse it would have been if someone knew about us? About-about what we do?"
Spider-Man took a step towards you, so he was about three feet away.
"If I lost you," He took a deep breath. "If I ever let you get hurt because of me, I would never forgive myself. I wouldn't-I wouldn't even be able to look at myself in the mirror. But staying away? That was the hardest thing I've ever done. And I hated it. I hated every second. Almost as much as I hated seeing you bleeding from your head, practically unconscious."
Another step forward. You could hear the pounding of your heart in your ears, like you heard the ocean when you held a seashell to your ear. You were soaked to the bone, but you couldn't focus on that. As Spider-Man approached you, you had never been more aware of your body, and of every nerve ending in it.
"And I-I picked you up and carried you out of that building," Spider-Man's words were barely above a murmur now. "I was so scared you were going to die, right there in my arms. That wasn't what I wanted the first time I touched you to be like, Y/N. Please believe me. I wanted it to be more than that."
Spider-Man sucked in a breath. He tilted his head to the side.
"I can hear your heart beating, even over the storm," His voice was so quiet and so loud at the same time. "I...do you trust me?"
You nodded, barely even a move of your head. Spider-Man reached his hands out and unzipped your hoodie slightly, just down your chest. Taking a deep breath, he placed his gloved left hand on your chest, right over your heart. His fingertips barely grazed your neck as he felt the pulse of your beating heart.
You felt like every nerve in your body had come to life. Had you even had a body until this moment? Everything before now felt distant, detached, like you were never truly feeling anything. Now, you felt everything. You felt the freezing fire escape beneath your bare feet, and the rain pelting your skin, and your hair dripping in your eyes, and Spider-Man's hand, Spider-Man's heat, Spider-man-
You could feel your heart racing more, and you dragged in uneven breaths. You couldn't tell if a few moments had passed or if eternity had. Did it really matter which one it was?
You sucked in a deep breath, looking up at the masked hero. "Do you...do you trust me?"
Spider-Man nodded earnestly, his head bobbing up and down. His hand had slid from your chest to your shoulder, keeping a grip on you.
You reached out your hands, pausing ever so slightly to gauge Spider-Man's reactions. If two trains left two stations at the exact same time, each headed in perpendicular directions, how much time, you wondered, would pass before they met? Your hands settled on the edge of his mask, and his breath caught. You paused again, and the boy gave a quick, small nod. How long would it take, you wondered more, for each train to continue on its way and leave the other?
You began to slowly pull the mask up, uncovering his skin millimetre by millimetre. A pale chin, free of stubble, with a bit of acne. Pale pink lips, slightly chapped but satin-looking nonetheless. The beginnings of soft cheeks, warm and flushed pink in comparison to the rest of his rain soaked body. The tip of his nose.
You could feel Spider-Man's breathing pick up, and you stopped lifting the mask. Instead, you settled your left hand on his cheek, cupping his face. The hero leaned his head into your hand, placing the hand not on your shoulder over yours on his cheek. With your other hand, you slowly moved to his mouth, gently rubbing a thumb over his lips. You felt Spider-Man sigh, nuzzling into your hand even more.
You had never been so soaked by rain, yet you had never felt so warm.
You glanced at his lips, then back up to his eyes. Nervously, you bit your own lip before leaning in ever so slightly. You continued until your foreheads were touching, noses just bumping into each other.
His hand, your shoulder. Your hand, his cheek. His hand, on top of yours. Your hand, grazing his lips and laying on his neck. After months of no contact whatsoever, this was like fire, like pure heat racing through you and lighting every single inch of your skin on fire. Your heart continued pounding as you breathed deeply, Spider-Man doing the same, and you felt his breath blow onto your lips.
You fell together. Falling was the only way you could describe the sensation you felt when his lips touched yours, moving together softly and sweetly for the first time. You tasted candy and vanilla and something you couldn't quite place but immediately became your favourite thing in the entire world, and you tried to remember how to breathe. After a moment, you both pulled back, leaning forehead against forehead once more, focusing on breathing.
Spider-Man let out a shuddering sigh, and he brought your lips together once more. It was faster and more passionate this time; you had dipped a toe in, waded deeper into the water slowly. Now, on the precipice of something you couldn't describe, you were ready to jump in. You were ready to drown in the storm around you if it meant you could keep kissing Spider-Man.
And you knew that none of this would end well, that he was a superhero, that the perpendicular trains were racing at different speeds to different destinations, and that though they may pause together, they would never completely stop at the same place. You knew all that, but as Spider-Man's hand tangled in your soaked hair, you couldn't bring yourself to care about any of it. All you could think was touch and lips and Spider-Man and more.
You couldn't tell who pulled away first. You couldn't tell how much time had passed. You couldn't even tell if it was still raining. You dragged in a ragged breath, staring at Spider-Man's swollen, pink lips, and wondered if yours looked the same, if they looked as beautiful.
Spider-Man's hands had shifted to one in your hair and the other on your waist, pulling you closer to him. Yours were still settled on his cheeks, holding him like a fine and precious thing.
The hero pressed his forehead against yours, and you imagined his eyes closed underneath his mask. You wondered what he was thinking, or if his mind was also wiped completely blank after that.
"That's what it was supposed to be like," He whispered, pressing you tighter to him. Your brow furrowed in confusion, and Spider-Man smiled (his smile was otherworldly) and rubbed his forehead against yours.
"The first time we touched," The boy clarified, pressing a quick peck to your lips. "Better late than never?"
You laughed breathlessly as Spider-Man pushed your soaking wet hair out of your face. He stared down at you intently.
"Y/N," He murmured, bringing his hand to your cheek and stroking it with his thumb. You tilted your head and kissed his palm lightly, and he smiled.
"Y/N," He repeated. "I really, really like you."
You nodded, and the nod became a soft kiss, and you fell back together again as the rain calmed, and the lights returned to the Queens skyline.
