This Is A Sticky Situation, and I'm Not Talking About The Webs

1

Jeremy gasped, clutching his arm as he staggered to his feet, breath coming short gasps as he limped down the alley. He spotted his backpack, and quickly made to change back into his school clothes, wincing whenever the fabric would scrape against his cuts. Usually Jeremy was more careful, but by the time he realized the muggers had switchblades, one was slicing through his suit. Sighing, he began his trip home. Manhattan was nice during the night, almost quiet. Jeremy only got to appreciate it when he swung himself up into his bedroom window in the evening after his patrols.

Entering through the window, he dug out a box of medical supplies from under his bed. Stripping off all his clothes except for his boxers, he stood in front of his mirror to assess his injuries. There was a cut on his thigh, but it wasn't too deep. His midsection was littered with purple bruises. Jeremy gently bandaged himself up, making sure to be quiet as to not wake up his father, and crawled into bed, drifting away to sleep.

-

Jeremy was awaken from his slumber by his ringtone playing the 8-bit tune of Zelda's Lullaby. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he groggily stared at his phone screen, trying to figure out who the hell was calling him.

Vsauce Michael is calling...

"Hey man, what's up?" Jeremy inquired, climbing out of his twin bed and stretching, then proceeding the groan from his injuries.

"Dude, are you jacking it?"

"No!"

Michael's laugh drifted into his ear, causing him to laugh along with his friend. Michael's laugh was contagious, and Jeremy loved it. Jeremy loved a lot of things about Michael, but in a totally platonic way. No homo.

"Well, shove your dick back into your pants because I'm waiting outside."

"Oh, shit."

He forgot about school, because he kinda had some other stuff to worry about. Michael was his designated driver. The bus was full of freshmen and sophomores, and he sure all he wasn't gonna have his dad drop him off pantsless.

Michael was usually his alarm clock, honking from outside and waking up all his neighbors. Jeremy quickly got dressed and ran out the door and into Michael's car. Michael looked up from his phone, flashing Jere one of his dazzling smiles that made him melt a little bit.

"You sure you weren't masturbating? You look hella fucked."

Jeremy shoved Michael as the taller wheezed with laughter. Michael pushed him back, causing Jeremy to gasp and clutch his midsection in pain.

Michael's face fell from all smiles to worry, forehead furrowing.

"Are you okay, dude?"

Jeremy swallowed, adam's apple bobbing, shook his head. His eyes dart up to meet Michael's, only to flutter closed after seeing the fear residing in his friend's.

"Jeremy?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. You just pushed me a bit too hard. Have you been lifting or something?" A shallow laugh escaped from his lips.

Michael stared at him, slightly biting his lip as his worried eyes scanned his friend. Jeremy quickly sat up in the passenger seat, biting back a groan of pain. He cleared his throat and gestured to the road. Michael got the hint.

-

Jeremiah Zachary Heere was 16 years old, a junior in high school. He was average height, skinny, and probably more anxious than the rest rest of Middleborough combined. He liked theatre, video games and Welch's fruit gummies. He was raised Jewish and lived with his father, Mom having been out of the picture since he was 11. Jeremy's favorite person in the whole entire world was his best friend of 12 years, one Michael Mell. Michael was a fucking geek, as was Jeremy, but he didn't give a fuck. Props to the guy for that.

Michael knew everything about Jeremy. Or so he thought. Jeremy has been keeping a secret from him since the end of freshman year. The thing is, Michael had no clue that Jeremy wasn't normal. Jeremy was a web-slinging superhero. Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man. And Michael could never know.

-

"What do you mean you're not gonna try out?"

Christine Canigula was pestering Jeremy about the spring musical, this year's being Tuck Everlasting.

Jeremy shook his head, attempting to avoid eye contact with the girl.

"I'm just too busy, Chris."

"Please, Jeremy? It wouldn't be the same without you!" Christine huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Besides, you'd be an amazing Jesse!" Jeremy made an effort to walk away, only for Christine to block his way.

"Christine..."

Jeremy stopped, and considered.

"Alright. I'll try out, okay?"

Christine pumped her first in delight.

"That's it, we're hanging out tonight! We gotta practice lines so you can get the lead, Jeremy!"

It's not like he had any choice in that decision.

-

It hadn't been a busy afternoon. Got out of school, walked to the Italian deli, got a sandwich. Snuck into an alleyway, changed into his suit. Stopped a bike thief, saved a cat from a tree, kick a creeper pestering a girl in the balls.

It was dark when he got home. He swung up to his bedroom window, which he always left unlocked, because who the fuck is gonna sneak into the tenth floor through a window? Except for him obviously. Opening it quietly, he crawled in and peeled off his mask, running a hand through his curls.

"Holy shit."

Jeremy slowly turned around to see Christine sitting on his bed, root beer can in one hand, script in the other.

"You're the Spider-boy?"

"Spider-Man, actually. Also, WHAT THE FUCK?"