Archive of Our Own

Living in a world with heroes was weird. Well, it was at first. Maybe six or seven years ago it was really weird. Perhaps not so much anymore however. Living in the metropolis that you did, it was now hardly uncommon to see caped or suited figures soaring through the skies and speeding by, whether it was to charge in on a disaster or simply to do their daily patrols. Things had been calm lately in your area, so the only anonymous hero you'd seen much of was Spiderman. Your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman. You'd seen him quite a few times since he first started his hero antics a few years ago. Out of his suit, he was most likely a local.

As a university student, you had your fair share of daily commutes to get to campus from your apartment, and you had definitely seen Spiderman stooped on a rooftop and swinging between buildings more than once. Not much was there to know about Spiderman, but it did certainly make you feel a little safer. After all, he was one of the more approachable heroes.

You were undeclared. Thankfully, you had more than enough time to decide on a major so for now you were cruising on some general subjects. Biology was shit. English was interesting. Political science was more than a little eye-opening. Music history was pretty boring at first, but at least you had Mark.

You had a few friends from high school thankfully, but it being college, you didn't see much of each other because of your differing schedules. It sucked but it at least allowed you to stretch those friend-making muscles that you hadn't used in quite some time. Most of the friends you had made were shallow friendships— those you had met by chance when you had sat next to them on the first day of class, the ones that you stood behind in line for coffee and had a little laugh about the weather with, and those that you'd met through social gatherings. They were all good for different things. Some were good to eat lunch with when it felt a little weird to be alone. Others were good to just study beside for an hour or two because your breaks lined up. And some were good to ask for notes if you had missed a day.

Mark Lee was a class friend. He had plopped himself beside you on the first day of Music History and it was lighthearted friendship from then on. He took good notes for when you missed class and sometimes he'd share his snacks that he always brought. You didn't really hang out or chat outside of class. You weren't those kind of friends. But it was nice to share a small chuckle when the professor would say something ridiculous or an eye-roll when a few of your peers would talk just a little too loud. Mark was cool and he made the hour-and-a-half long lecture just a little more bearable.

There was a project due in two weeks for music class. “Let's be partners?” Mark had asked in that soft voice that he had.

“Yeah, sure,” you nodded, not looking up from your notes. The professor was a little quick when going over notes so you couldn't spare a glance.

“Okay cool. Are you free tomorrow? I can text you my address and stuff,” Mark murmured, also jotting down notes.

“I'm free,”

After parting ways, Mark texted you his address which was about a ten minute walk from you own place, and to come at 6pm.

It was 5:30 now, but you had left a little early and by the time you realized you were a bit early, it was too late to turn around. Thirty minutes wasn't that big of a deal, and it would give you more time to work on your project anyway, so you saw no harm in it. Mark lived in an apartment complex much like your own— brick, and old. Once you got to his door, you knocked gingerly, not really knowing how to present yourself to someone you'd never seen outside of the classroom. To your surprise you were greeted with a woman; older, pretty, and looked a lot like Mark. His mother.

“Can I help you?” she asked, holding the door open a little.

“Hello,” you offered a small smile, “I'm a classmate of Mark's. Is he here? He invited me to come over so we could work on our project.”

“Oh!” a certain friendliness washed over Mark's mother's face and she opened the door wider, “Come on in, he should be in his room. You can go right on in.” She smiled warmly to you and motioned to the hallway with a door at the end; presumably Mark's bedroom.

You made your way down the hall and saw the door was very slightly ajar and you could hear music softly playing behind it, so you decided to push it open.

There were many things you were expecting to see once you had opened the door. Mark could have been studying, or maybe laying in bed. Perhaps cleaning his room or hell, he could have been asleep. What you had not expected however, was to see Mark Lee, climbing into his room through the window, clad in a skintight blue and red suit that you knew all too well, pulling the mask from his head and accidentally bumping his forehead on the windowsill on the way in. “Ouch,” Mark muttered to himself, rubbing the sore spot a little, completely unaware of your presence.

“Uh,” you let a sound escape you as the shock began to settle into your skin. You felt your head begin to spin as you desperately tried to wrap it around the idea that Mark Lee was your friendly neighbourhood hero. Mark Lee, your music history classmate, who showed up to class barely on time, liked strawberry cream cheese bagels, and had this weird habit of bouncing his leg in class, was Spiderman. Spiderman had super strength and a super attitude. Mark Lee was him.

“Oh fuck,” Mark's eyes widened and he took half a second to look at you, look down at his attire, and look back at you.

“You're uh— you're not gonna like, kill me or something because I know your secret identity, right?” You laughed nervously, only half-joking, but also prepping yourself for your fight-or-flight response to kick in. You were sweating a little behind the knees and wondering if you even stood a chance if Mark did decide to just off you right then and there.

“Wha— what? No!” he choked a little and shook his head furiously, “Just, don't tell anyone. Please.”

“Okay,” you swallowed, nodding slowly. You sat yourself down in his desk chair and heaved a sigh, feeling your heartbeat slow down just a bit. “Does you mom know?”

Mark walked past you and closed the door properly with two fingers, then let his back hit the door, resting his head back a bit, “Uh, no she doesn't. As if she'd let me do all this dangerous stuff.”

“Right,” you nodded, “Dangerous stuff.” The whole concept was still completely foreign. “Mark Lee, my classmate, is a crime fighting hero.”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “Are you good?” He squinted at you a little, noticing how pale you had gotten since you got here.

“Yeah I'm fine. Just, what the fuck, man?” you spluttered, “This is just weird, but I'll get over it soon just give me a minute.”

“Okay then,” Mark snorted, “In the meantime do you mind if I just get changed real quick? I don't want my mom to walk in with juice for you and subsequently find out I'm Spiderman too.”

“Sure, I'll just step out for a sec,” you got up from the chair and made your way to the door.

“No,” Mark blocked your path, “If you're out there she'll think something is up or I feel like you'll just blurt out my secret on accident. Just uh— turn around or something.”

He had a point. You were definitely not in the state to be keeping crucial secrets. If Mark's mom even looked at you different, you feared you would just completely spill everything like a buffoon. “You're weird,” you huffed, but turned to face the wall anyway.

Mark changed in record time— must have something to do with his freaky spider powers— and told you to turn back around. Once you were facing him again he was back to his old college-classmate self and it was as if the whole fiasco hadn't happened at all; like it was just some weird midday fever dream. Only it wasn't. But you really really wished that it was.

“So, you wanna get started on the project?” Mark asked, flopping onto his bed and motioning for you to sit in his chair.

“Just like that?” you cocked a brow, “The past ten minutes were so stressful it felt like three years. Should I just go home? We can start another day.” It was embarrassing to admit but you were still caught up in how fucking weird it was that Mark was Spiderman.

“Dude, no. I know I'm Spiderman and everything but I still have a GPA to maintain, y'know,”

Mark's mom did in fact come in with juice not five minutes later. Then, you went home at 8 after two hours of hard work.

You saw Mark again two days later for class. Of course you had billions of questions to ask, but it really wasn't your place to pry and you didn't want to make him uncomfortable by asking. So, as per usual, you took your spot beside him, jotted down messy notes for the duration of class, and gave Mark some of your water when he asked for it.

Today, you decided to work on your project at the library after class because Mark had stuff later tonight. Probably crime fighting. Still weird. It was maybe thirty minutes since you got there when Mark suddenly piped up, “I'm surprised you haven't asked about it at all.”

“It?” you laughed.

“You know,” Mark grabbed his backpack and opened the zipper, revealing his crumpled up suit at the bottom, “It.”

“You just have that on you at all tiimes?”

“Well I have to,”

“Right. Crime has no schedule,” you nodded seriously, “Anyway I was just minding my business. I don't want to bother you with a bunch of questions. Being Spiderman is just a part of your life and that's okay.” You felt that answer was smart enough to hide the fact that you really did want to bother him with a bunch of questions.

“Oh,” Mark blinked, “Okay then, thanks.”

Afterwards, you continued to work for a few hours then went home as planned.

For the next two weeks, you worked diligently and didn't bring up Mark's secret identity at all, which you patted yourself on the back for. Sometimes you worked at the library, or his house, but mostly it was at your own house. Once Mark found out you lived on your own, he was eager to go there instead so, “My mom won't bother us.” Personally, you liked his mom though.

Every now and then you saw him in his suit, swinging his legs idly over a high up ledge, or flying between buildings, hanging from a thin string of web, but you never brought it up. The image of Mark and Spiderman were still detached things in your head, so it was off-putting to point it out to him when his hero-self felt so different from the one you knew from school.

Just like that, the two weeks had passed and you were left with a finished, and dare you say, good music project. Mark had ended up being an excellent partner and your combined work had certainly paid off. You handed it in and were expecting contact to go back to being minimal. After all, you had no reason to hang out anymore and if this Spiderman ordeal had never occurred, you would have just continued to be casually friendly peers. You hadn't spoken about the ordeal in quite some time, so you assumed that things would indeed go back to being casual; only speaking in class and only texting for notes. So, when Mark texted you, asking to go for lunch the day after you handed in your project, you were a little surprised.


A few hours later, you found yourself seated across from Mark at the diner he had texted you to meet at, a plate of fries placed between you. After he had texted you, you pondered for a bit as to why he would invite you to spend time together when you no longer had a project to work on, and you had never hung out outside of class just because. Naturally, the only logical conclusion you could land upon is that he just wanted to make sure you hadn't disclosed his identity to anyone. You had a little bit of a big mouth so his concern was honestly warranted, but for once, you had taken special care to not speak on this one matter.

“So what's up?” you asked, tossing a fry into your mouth.

“What, are you the police?” Mark grinned, “I just want to hang out.”

“You know, you don't have to keep tabs on me or anything,” you said finally, “I haven't told anyone about your secret and I've been super careful about it.”

“You think that's why I want to hang out?” he asked earnestly.

“Yes, we've never hung out outside of school before,” you deadpanned.

“Then what do you call the last two weeks?”

“We were working on school stuff it doesn't count,” you stated matter-of-factly.

“Okay, first of all, rude,” Mark threw a fry at you and it bounced off your face before falling to the floor, “Second of all, did it ever occur to you that maybe after spending time outside of class with you for two weeks, I wanted to become better friends with you?”

“No?” you supplied stupidly. It really hadn't crossed your mind. Why would literal Spiderman want to be friends with you?

“Well I do, dumbass,” he huffed, “Besides, it's nice to have a friend from my real life that knows about my secret stuff. I feel like I can relax around you.” His lips curled into an sheepish smile. By now, the plate of fries was half empty. It truly hadn't occurred to you that Mark would want a non-hero friend that knew both sides of him, and as you dwelled on it, you understood it better and began to warm up to it. From what you already knew, Mark was a reliable and easy-going person that you got along well with under normal circumstances, so Spiderman stuff aside, you would be great friends.

“Okay, I'm sorry for doubting your motives,” you relented, “Let's be friends.”

The next week, you invited Mark over for a movie night at your house on a Saturday. He had kind of spilled his heart to you last week, so you felt like it was up to you to organize the first real 'friend hang'. You weren't sure if he would have the free time, what, with all his crime-fighting but thankfully he agreed. He admitted that if there was real trouble, he would be alerted on his phone through his suit, so he didn't really need to patrol nearly as much as he did, but he still liked to. However, he decided he could spare one night.

You set out snacks and juice and kept a short list in your head of movie suggestions in case Mark had nothing in mind. He arrived right at 8pm; your agreed upon time. “Wouldn't wanna pop up early and accidentally see you in your super suit,” he laughed after you commented on his punctuality.

“Don't even joke about that,” you scoffed, heading over to the couch.

“Oh, you have a cat here?” Mark asked, situating himself beside you. Your cat, Plinko, was in your room, and hadn't shown up yet.

“Yeah, how did you know?” you asked, a little bit shocked.

“Spidey senses,” he tapped his head knowingly.

“What, really-”

“No, I'm just kidding,” Mark giggled, “you have a cat tree right there.”

“Okay, not fair,” you shoved him, feeling a blush creep up your neck for being so gullible.

You put on Happy Feet, but after snacking for a little bit, you settled into conversation. You had met his mom, so he asked what your parents were up to, and you told him that they were doctors. You'd grown up idly reading their medical books so you knew a thing or two about fixing up some minor issues.

“You know, I see you sometimes on the street,” Mark pointed out a little bit later, “From even before you found out about me.”

“Okay, stalker much,” you raised your brows. Mark's cheeks were suddenly flaming and you couldn't suppress a grin. “I'm kidding, I see you too.”

“Really? Do I look cool?” he sat up excitedly.

“I saw you fly into a brick wall one time,”

“Okay, but other than that,” Mark pressed.

“Before, it was cool, but now I know he's you, so not anymore,” you snickered.

Mark sported a pout but as he was grumbling, Plinko decided to make an entrance and immediately climbed into Mark's lap. All of his false malice fell away as he began fawning over the cat.

A few days later, you were in music class and Mark wasn't there. You waited a bit because sometimes he was just late, but by now, it was a bit too late into class for this to just be tardiness, so you sent him a quick text asking where he was.

You received a text after ten or so minutes.

Mark: sry cant come.. spidey stuff :( pls grab notes for me

So that's where he was. Mark had missed class a handful of times in the past, and this was probably the reason— fighting bad guys. You swiftly sent back a smiley and continued to pay attention to the professor as the notes were no longer just for yourself. Once class was finished, you emailed the notes on over to Mark and continued with your day.

As thanks, you were really only expecting a quick thank you text later in the day, but instead you got a call later that night once you were home.

“Let me in, I'm outside,” Mark's slightly muffled voice came through the receiver.

Thankfully, it wasn't too late, and you were only studying in the living room so with a huff, you pushed yourself up from the couch and made your way for the front door. You opened it, but no one was there. “You're not here, you clown,” you chided, “You better not be playing some joke on me.”

“Not the door, I'm at your bedroom window. I see Plinko. Hurry up it's cold,” Mark chuckled softly. You heard a tapping on the window coming from your room and the sudden sound scared the absolute shit out of you.

“Coming,” you rolled your eyes, then ended the call. You plodded into your bedroom and there he was, outside of your window, sticking to the outside wall, fully clad in his Spiderman suit, waving his fingers at Plinko. “You're so dramatic,” you scolded as you jimmied the window open with your fingers.

“What? I was on the job,” Mark explained, climbing into your room. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a small cardboard box, passing them to you, “Here, for you. Chicken nuggets as thanks for the notes.”

The box was still warm. “Mark, you didn't have to it's fine,” you fretted, already trying to hand the box back.

“It's okay, I wanted to get you something. You're always helping me out,” he shrugged. His mask was still on so you couldn't see that he was smiling but you could hear it in his voice and could already imagine the curl of his lips.

“It's just notes,”

“Yup, and those are just nuggets,” Mark pointed out, slinging his backpack back over his shoulders, “Anyways I gotta go. Just wanted to drop those off for you. Duty calls.” And just like that he was back out your window and swinging to the next building. You lived on the fifth floor.

For your next hangout, it was Mark's turn to plan, so that's how you found yourself perched on a not-too-high rooftop, sharing candy with Spiderman at 7pm on a Tuesday.

“Isn't it dangerous for me to be here? You're on a patrol for crime and we're on a rooftop,” you squinted at Mark. You don't know how he got you to agree to this in the first place. You were too curious for your own good.

“It's been pretty calm lately and hardly anything ever happens anyway. You'll be fine,” Mark reasoned, “Besides, I'm here so I'll protect you if something comes up. You're probably safer here with me than you would be anywhere else.” You swore you could visibly see his chest puff and you had half the mind to take him down a peg or two.

“Okay fine,” you gave in, much like you always did when it came to Mark, “So this is what you do on your patrols? Sit on rooftops and eat fuzzy peaches?”

“Well when you say it like that it sounds lame,” he whined, “I do this too.” He then shot a measly string of webbing from the contraption on his wrist and you both watched as the wind carried it slowly to the ground.

“That's it?”

“Yes,” Mark laughed, “Also I beat up bad guys sometimes. But that's like once a month, if that.”

“How did that start anyway?” you decided it was finally time to ask. The questions and the eagerness to ask them had died down quite a bit since you first found out about Mark's identity but naturally, some still remained that you felt were important to know about. “When did Mark Lee become Spiderman?”

“Well that story is actually kind of lame. In high school, this weird spider thing bit me on a field trip,” he explained.

“And then?”

“And then it made me super hot. Total chick magnet,” Mark's face was serious. You flicked him in the head. “Okay, it gave me weird freaky powers. I can like, stick to walls and stuff and I'm stronger, I guess.”

“Okay, then what about the hero stuff? You could've just continued on with your life normally and just be super strong on the side,”

“Well I am continuing on with my life,” he said, “But it felt like a waste to be so different and do nothing with it. I see what goes on in this neighbourhood. I'm sure you do too. I had the ability to do something about it, so I just did.” Mark spoke as if this were nothing but there was a certain glint in his eyes that told you that this was something he truly cared for.

You nodded, as there was really not much to be said in response to something like that. For a few minutes you just let yourself feel the warm night air pass you by and take in the sights and sounds that came with it. It was different way up here than it was on the ground. You could understand why Mark did this almost every day. Afterwards, you chatted a little more over small things and for the rest of the night it was calm, just as Mark said it would be. Then, he walked you home once he deemed it too late for you to be out.

Things stayed much the same after that. Every week or so you'd take turns organizing hangouts when you could spare the time. For the most part though, you would just spend time together at your house playing video games or watching movies, or at the library to study and pass time. You'd grown much closer together in the past few months and you were glad Mark was your friend. Him being Spiderman had just become a fact of life that really only sat in the back of your mind at most times.

There were some reminders though. Like tonight, when he had texted you a little bit later in the night to meet him at the rooftop of your building. By now, you knew that visits like these were because he was hurt. Every now and then, Mark would drop by to get help from you. It was never anything serious, but it was a scathing reminder that Mark wasn't always the friendly neighbourhood Spiderman that sat on buildings eating candy every night. These visits occurred because he had put himself in harm's way again; whether it was to protect someone else or fight those that meant to hurt others.

After receiving the text, you grabbed your first aid kit from the closet and hurried to the roof, wondering what Mark had gotten into this time. Once you arrived, he was already there, seated on the ground, his mask pulled off and laying at his feet.

“What happened this time?” you knelt down beside him and began examining him for wounds, “Where did you get hurt?”

“Just here,” he answered sheepishly, tracing a gash on his forehead with a finger. He didn't answer your first question, but you decided not to pry. Mark didn't always like to talk about those situations, and it wasn't really your place to press him for answers. You were just his friend after all.

With a huff, you flipped open your first-aid kit and fished around for a needle and thread; he would definitely need stitches. “Remind me again why you don't just see a real doctor for these things?” you patted his wound with an alcohol pad to clean it.

“Healthcare premiums,” Mark snickered, and if he wasn't already wounded, you would have punched him for it, “Also, then my mom will find out how much I get hurt— “

“Right, and then she'll find out you're Spiderman,” you finished for him, “Do you really trust me with this stuff?”

Mark winced as you began to stitch. “Of course I do. You would tell me if you didn't know how to treat something, and you've never failed me in the past,” Mark explained, “You're my guardian angel.”

“Ew,” you grimaced but definitely felt your heart jump a little. He was just sweet-talking you so you'd forget how mad you were at him for getting hurt. And it was working, just a little. “Okay, all done,” you said as you tied it off, “Is there anything else? Do you need an ice pack or something?”

“No, it's okay I have ice at home. I'll definitely take a few of your hello-kitty bandaids though. And maybe a sticker for being a good patient,” Mark said. You wished he was joking, but ever since he found out that you kept stickers in your kit, he'd always get you to stick one on his chest before he left.

You handed him two bandaids and pressed a smiley face sticker to his chest with a thumb. “Okay, stay safe, and keep that wound clean,” you reminded him.

Mark got up from the ground and dusted himself off. “Thank you again,” he said earnestly, “Lunch on me tomorrow?”

“Mark, it's fine. You don't have to get me stuff every time I help you,”

“Lunch on me,” he insisted before stepping off the ledge and swinging off into the night.

Sometimes you held sleepovers at your house. They were fun, and although you were a bit hesitant at first, with enough pressing, Mark eventually got you to cave. You were thankful he did though, because even though you hated to admit it, you enjoyed them. You liked to hold sleepovers on your free weekends, and sometimes the day before a big test. Even if it wasn't for the same class, you found that having Mark over for company kept you in check; he made you stay up a little later and having another presence there made you want to work a harder too. Plus, he would always bring snacks if he knew you were stressed out.

Most of the time though, the sleepovers were just for fun and you'd watch movies, play with your cat, and stay up really late. For your first sleepover, Mark slept on the floor and you in your bed but after that, neither of you saw the trouble in sharing a bed— your's was big enough anyway. It was warmer this way and it made your late night chats seem all the more special. On such nights you would open up to each other about things you were afraid to say under sunlight. You whispered about how you missed your parents and how you were confused about what to pursue in life; if you should follow in your parents' footsteps or forge a path on your own. Mark, in turn would confess that sometimes being a hero scared him. He was still a person so he was scared of getting hurt, or making a mistake that would make someone else hurt. Sometimes he wondered if there was more he could be doing, too. Most of all, he didn't like lying about his identity; especially to his mother. Of course, he knew why it had to be kept secret, but “it hurts sometimes,” he had said.

It was the third, or maybe the fourth sleepover you had when you realized something. Nothing was out of the ordinary, but it had hit you like a truck. It was when Mark had first stepped into your apartment that day. He had brought snacks as per usual and was already in his pyjamas. After he put the snacks away in your kitchen, (by now he knew where everything belonged) he grabbed a blanket from your closet and sat beside you, pulling the blanket over both of you. He leaned into your side and started watching the movie you had playing. He asked you to catch him up on what he had missed and maybe it was the softness of his voice or the light smell of cologne that he always wore. Perhaps it was the brush of his messy black locks brushing your jaw as he rested his head on your shoulder, or maybe the warmth of his body next to yours under the blanket. Everything seemed so natural, as though this was how things had been your whole life. It was in that moment that you had realized that you were in love with this boy.

As the thought crossed your mind, your breath hitched and your heartbeat hastened as you become hyperaware of your surroundings. Since when had you fallen into this pattern of easy affection? You were sure it wasn't always this way. Since when had your lives become so intertwined? You had never questioned it til now but now everything was coming to light.

“Gotta pee,” you choked out before throwing the covers off and speeding to the bathroom. You didn't have to look back to know Mark was throwing you a confused look as you left.

You locked the bathroom door behind you and sat yourself on the toilet lid, throwing your head into your hands. Why was this coming up now? You'd been quite affectionate with Mark for a while now, but it had never crossed your mind that he was even an option. And he wasn't an option! He was Spiderman, for goodness sake. You couldn't fall in love with Spiderman, much less date him. Plus, Mark would never return your feelings. He was Spiderman!

The more you thought about it, the more you fell into limbo. You had never though of Mark in this way but suddenly it was dawning on you that Mark was cute. His black hair was always a mess and those hoodies he always wore to class always had weird sayings on them or weird drawings and only now you were realizing that they were endearing. And he was smart too. More often than not, he was the one helping you in class, and on your study hangouts, he actually studied very diligently. Not to mention, he engineered a lot of of the add ons for his suit. Oh, and he was sweet. So sweet to you. But you knew that even before. He was always looking out for you, always giving little gifts and expecting nothing in return, always asking how you're feeling or if you needed anything. His strong demeanour in his suit betrayed his true honey-sweet self. He was funny. Stupid sometimes. Strong always. So, you were in love. And nothing would come of it.

Eventually you composed yourself, and came back to the movie, sitting beside Mark.

“Don't lie, did you poop?” was the first thing he said.

This was who you were in love with.

Soon enough, everything Mark did make you like him more and more. He always brought snacks for you in class, and they were your favourites too. He would text you about things he'd see on his patrols or songs that he heard that reminded him of you. Before, these were just nice things that Mark did to make your day, but now they made your heart pound. You knew that he meant nothing romantic by it but, it made you feel loved, cared for. And that was nice.

You wanted to start returning the favour because he did so much for you. So, you brought Mark some strawberries for your study session at the library that afternoon.

“Is it my birthday or something?” he asked, inspecting the bag of strawberries.

“No, I just wanted to bring you something,” you admitted nervously, “If you don't want them-”

Mark snatched the bag out of your reach, “I didn't say that. I want them!” He gave you a puzzled look but began eating the strawberries anyway. You were beginning to overthink your actions; something you had never done with Mark. It was weird again.

It was 11pm and you were barely climbing into bed when you heard a knock at your window. Had this been a few months ago you would have startled and maybe called the police, but by now you knew it to be Mark. But he hadn't called or texted before showing up, so you felt a little worried as you slid the window open.

“Hey, what's up?” you asked worriedly as Mark climbed into your room.

Immediately, he slid onto the floor and pulled his mask off, panting a little. “Sorry,” he breathed heavily, “I uh- just need to rest for a second. Just give me a moment.” He leaned his head back a little as his chest heaved.

Something was off. Right away, you pressed the back of your hand to his forehead. He was burning. “Mark, you're sick,” you gasped. It was fever.

“I know,” he pushed your hand away, “I'm fucking radical.”

“Shut up,” you said sternly, standing up and beginning to dig through your drawers for spare clothes he had left behind in the past. You found some and tossed them at him, “Are you good to get changed by yourself?” he nodded, “Okay, then get changed and get in the bed, I'm gonna go wet some towels.”

Once you came back, Mark was climbing into your bed obediently, his suit crumpled up on the floor. Now that he was in a t-shirt and shorts you could see he was riddled with bruises, but thankfully nothing serious. “Lay down,” you instructed, wringing a cold towel and pressing it to his forehead, “Why the hell are you fighting like this?” You could feel yourself getting upset but tried to swallow the feeling down.

“I know-”

“No, you don't know,” you bit back immediately. So much for not chewing him out. But you couldn't help it.

“I got an alert. It was important this time,” he explained.

“But you're sick, Mark. Your health is important too,”

“I know, I'm sorry,” he placed a hand over your hand that was holding the towel to his forehead, “There were people in danger though. They could have died. I had to go.”

“I understand, but you're not the only person in the city that can help. You could have asked for help,” you pressed. You fought the urge say what you really wanted to say. I don't want to lose you.

“There was no time-”

“Just promise you won't do that again,” you sighed, resting your head against the mattress tiredly.

“I promise,”

You didn't really believe him, but said nothing more, letting him fall asleep before climbing in beside him and turning off the light.

Mark got better after a few days. He then asked if you were free on Saturday, which you were, so he told you to meet him at the park downtown on that day.

It was warmer on Saturday, so you decided a summer dress was fine. Once you got there, it was absolutely bustling. Of course, this was a popular spot as it was a huge park with lots of greenery and a man-made lake running through it, but it wasn't always this busy. You'd have to ask what all the fuss was about later. Mark told you to meet him by the pillar near the entrance but you couldn't spot him because of how many people there were. So, you called him.

“Where are you? I can't see you,” you said once he picked up.

“Are you at the pillar?” he asked. You could hear voices in the background.

“Yeah,” you answered, peering around, trying to pick him out from the crowd.

“Hey,” a voice came from behind you and you felt a poke at your shoulder. You turned around and it was Mark, wearing a black hoodie, jeans, and..glasses. Round golden wire-framed glasses. He never wore glasses, especially since his vision got fixed when he was bitten in high school. It was cute though. “Pretty dress,” he smiled.

“What are these for,” you asked, pulling his glasses from his face. You brushed his compliment aside, not wanting to dwell on things that made your heart race. Sure enough, they had no lenses.

“I wanted to accessorize,” Mark whined, snatching them back out of your hands and placing them back on his face with care, “Why does it look weird?”

“No, you look beautiful,” you teased, patting his cheek. You turned and started walking towards the park, “Why did you wanna come here anyway? And what's with the crowd?”

Mark jogged to catch up with you. “There's a fireworks show today. Something about the park's anniversary, so there's a bunch of food stalls and things going on too,” Mark explained, “Also, I wanted to make it up to you for taking care of me all the time. Especially for the other day. I shouldn't have burdened you like that but I can't change the past so I thought I'd take you out today and buy you all the snacks you want.” He fiddled with is fingers a bit as he hung his head in shame.

“Dude, I'm mad at you for getting hurt when you were sick, but you're not a burden. Don't say that stuff,” you scolded, “And again, you don't have to make it up to me every time I help you. If I didn't want to help you, then I wouldn't. We're friends, you don't have to pay me back for everything.”

“I still feel bad, but in that case, I'm just treating you because you're my best friend whom I cherish and want to have a good day today,” Mark corrected, “Now what do you want to do first? Wanna get cotton candy?” You wanted to get after him a little more but cotton candy definitely sounded good right now.

Mark led the way but you found you were easily getting pushed around in the crowd as you followed him. As if sensing something off (spidey senses), Mark turned around and saw that you were struggling a bit. “Here, just take my hand, so you won't get lost,” he extended a hand to you, and with a little reluctance, you took it. You couldn't help but think that this was kind of feeling like a date, but you shook those thoughts away immediately. It wasn't like that, Mark didn't care for you like that, he was just being a good friend. He didn't think much of holding your hand, unlike you.

Eventually, you got to the stall and as promised, Mark paid, despite your protesting. You decided to share one, and you tried to ignore your disappointment when Mark let go of your hand to hold the cotton candy between you.

Next, you decided to just sit at a bench by the water. There were ducks and you wanted to watch them for a bit.

“No backpack today?” you asked after noticing that Mark wasn't carrying anything on him like he usually did. He always kept his backpack on him because that's where he kept his suit in case anything came up suddenly.

“Nope,” he grinned, “Today is just for you and me. No Spiderman stuff.”

You weren't sure if you wanted to throw up or kiss him. Instead, you just huffed and played with the hem of your dress, pretending that the water was suddenly very fascinating. Suddenly, you heard the click of a camera shutter and snapped your head up to see Mark with his phone pointed at you. “What are you doing?”

“Just taking your picture,” he answered simply, “You look nice today.”

Instantly, your felt your face flaming. “I want juice,” you stood up quickly, smoothing your dress over with your hands.

“Okay,” Mark stood up too, then took your hand in his again. He wasn't flirting. You had to keep reminding yourself to stop reading into things.

You had to wander around for a little bit before you found a lemonade stand. You got raspberry lemonade and Mark got peach lemonade. You tried to pay but, again, he insisted that everything today was his treat.

“Lemme try,” Mark said, taking a sip from your straw, “Hmm.”

“Good?” you asked. He was still holding onto your hand as you walked leisurely.

“S'okay,” he shrugged, then drank from his own cup.

You spent the whole day walking around the park, watching street performances, and getting snacks from stalls. You talked about whatever. He held your hand the whole time.

Eventually, the sun set and you found a spot on the grass where you could see the fireworks. It was getting a little cold, so you sat a little closer to Mark, hoping to soak up some of the warmth radiating from him. Then, the show started. You hadn't seen fireworks in a while so the bursts of colour against the deep night sky were mesmerizing. They were dancing and the loud sounds reminded you a bit of the pounding of your own heart.

“Are you cold?” Mark asked, a little loud so you could hear him over the booming of fireworks.

“A little,” you said, “But it's fine.”

“Here, take my sweater. I have a long sleeve under,” he replied, already tugging the black sweater off over his head.

“No, Mark it's okay-” but he was already sliding it over your head. Suddenly, you were enveloped in warmth and the smell of Mark that you had grown familiar with over time.

Your hair was a little messy afterwards but as you raised your hands to fix it, Mark moved closer. “I got it,” he murmured, pushing strands away from your face. All of a sudden he was so close to you as he fixed your hair, his fingers brushing your face, and his breath warm on your cheek. His lips were right there and you could swear he was getting closer and closer and it was as if time itself slowed.

A particularly loud pop of fireworks stunned both of you out of your stupor, bringing time back to speed. “Oh,” you breathed, pulling away. Mark's eyes widened and he pulled away too, his eyes glued to the grass.

What was that?

Things began to grow a little tense after that. Later that night, Mark walked you home, and neither of you spoke about what had almost happened. What you believed almost happened. Was he going to kiss you then? Surely not. But, he was so close. What else could it have been?

You still sat together in class and hung out on a weekly basis. On the surface, it was as if nothing had changed at all. But every time you were together, your heart pounded, and your mind raced, repeatedly going over what had happened that night. What could have happened if that sound had not gone off when it did?

When you'd study together in the library, the conversation was light, nothing deep so that it couldn't be brought up. You didn't know if Mark was feeling the same tension that you were, but sometimes you'd look up at him from across the table and your eyes would lock for a second, and there was something there, but before you could look further, his eyes would dart back to his work. You wanted to say something. Ask if he felt the same. Because maybe he did feel the same. That would explain his behaviour as of late.

But maybe he didn't. Maybe he didn't return your feelings and you were completely overthinking things. If he found out how you felt and didn't feel the same, you would have to sit in that shame. That humiliation. And you knew Mark would be too nice to cut you off. He'd continue to be your friend, a look of pity in his eyes ever-present. He'd pretend you had said nothing for your sake, and his jaw would tighten if it was ever brought to light again.

You simply couldn't risk it. You were his guardian angel. Who else could he turn to fix his wounds if he ever needed the help? You were the only one that knew, and you couldn't take that away from him. He needed this solace, and you knew you did too. Perhaps you were confusing his dependence on you for love. It wasn't worth sticking your neck out for.

It should have been a normal Thursday evening. You were kind of studying, mostly thinking about Mark, but studying nonetheless. Nothing out of the ordinary. A message notification on your phone from a friend pulled you from your daze.

Check the news.

So you did. Something was going on in the east side of the city. Near the government building. Each site and channel was saying something different. Some were saying aliens, others claimed it to be the work of the government, or monsters. All that was really known was that something, an explosion or sorts, had gone off. People were hurt. Police and some heroes were on the scene as there was some retaliation going on. Masked figures with strange weapons and elevated strength. Nothing confirmed.

Your breathing began to speed up as it seemed that all the air was gone. Panic was rising in your throat and your ears began to ring. Mark was there. You knew he would be there. Always the first to help, and never one to think of himself. You shook your head to regain your senses but it felt like you were going to pass out. You managed to dial Mark's number. No answer. So you called again. Still nothing.

You sent a few texts asking where he was, but you already knew the answer. All you could do was wait. Without a second thought, you grabbed your coat, and your first-aid kit, then headed to the roof. If Mark was hurt, he would come to you.


The sun had set and Mark still hadn't come, or answered your messages. You could feel the anxiety creeping into your veins as you refreshed the news again. By now, even more were injured and a few had died. No names were released and all you could think about was if Mark was one of them. He couldn't be, right? He was strong.

But the enemy was strong too. Nothing seemed to be conclusive and it took everything to stop yourself from going there yourself. You had to keep telling yourself that you going there wouldn't change anything and you were nobody and you couldn't help. But Mark could be hurt right now, he could be dead, even. You didn't want to dwell on it but it ate away at you endlessly. What would you do if Mark never came back? You never said goodbye, or told him how you felt. You never told him how much you cared for him and how important he was to you. He was everything to you. What would you do without him?


You waited all night, and still, nothing came of it.

Then, the sun began to rise, and you received news that it was over. They had managed to subdue the alien forces and each side was now collecting their injured and dead. You were still on the roof, having sat there all night. Mark still hadn't contacted you at all. That only meant one thing. You felt your heart jump into your throat as the realization began to sit in your mind. Then, the tears came.

You tried your best to wipe the tears away, because crying only made it more real. Crying meant you were mourning a loss. But the tears only kept coming.

“Why are you crying?” a voice said as feet landed beside you. You looked up and Mark was there, his mask bunched up in one hand. He was alive, and you were flooded with relief and you felt like you could finally breathe again. You stood up from you place on the ground to get a better look at him. His suit was torn at the chest, and there were cuts all over his face and arms. There was dried blood everywhere, and his ankle didn't look right.

Suddenly, all you could see was red. Your relief turned to worry, then to anger, and you couldn't suppress the anger boiling within you. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” you yelled, “How could you let yourself get hurt like this? Why didn't you think to take care of your own safety for once in your fucking life? I thought you were dead, Mark!” Hot tears poured from your eyes as you berated him.

“I'm sorry, I-”

“Shut up! Do you have any idea how scared I was?! How scared I always am for you? Sometimes I wish I never met you,” you cried, “If I had never met you then I wouldn't be scared for you all the time! I would never have to feel this pain of falling in love with you and always being afraid to lose you!” You slapped a hand over your mouth as you realized what your adrenaline had pushed you to say.

Suddenly, weak arms were wrapping around you and a weak head was resting on your shoulder. “I love you too,” Mark murmured, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, “And I'm sorry. I do think about these things. I really do. But I'm stupid and when these things happen, I find that I'm already there without considering the consequences. I'm sorry that you have to worry about me all the time. But I'm so thankful that I met you and that it's you that watches over me. Thank you for being my guardian angel. I'll be more careful next time.”

You took a deep breath to calm down before pushing Mark's arms away. “Sit down,” you commanded, wiping your tears away with a hand, and helping Mark onto the ground with the other. “I'm still furious at you,” you said as you flipped open the lid on your first aid kid. You took an alcohol wipe to clean the blood from his chest, arms, and face so you could assess the damage. After cleaning his wounds, you breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing too serious except for his sprained ankle which you elevated and stabilized. You ignored Mark's eyes following you as you silently wrapped gauze around his arms and pressed bandages to his face and chest. “You're going to have to get your ankle treated by a professional,” you instructed. You knew that Mark couldn't go to the hospital, but he had since told you that some of the bigger heroes that he knew had their own teams of doctors for situations such like these. Mark could go to one of them as he had enough contacts. You closed your first-aid kid and stood up, helping Mark up as well.

“Wait, we still need to talk,” Mark stopped you.

“Get better, then we'll talk,” you replied. You were still angry, but you knew it wasn't Mark's fault. “Are you good to get there on your own?”

“Yes,” he nodded, “I'll see you soon.”

You didn't see Mark for about a week. However, it only took about half a day for you to forgive him. You knew by now he was probably resting at home, having had lied to his mother, probably telling her that he was at the scene, but as a bystander. You could have visited him, but stopped yourself, despite how much you wanted to. You needed to think. Mark loved you too. And that was fantastic; you had let yourself feel over the moon about it for about a minute. But then there was the issue of how to move forward with this. You couldn't date Spiderman. Well, you wanted to. However, the things you had yelled at him for were still real. He was always putting himself in danger and it would only take one mistake for him to disappear from your life forever. You weren't sure if you could handle being constantly afraid of losing him.

And what if him knowing of your worry dragged him down? What if his worry for your own worry affected his fighting? You didn't want to be a burden for him, always gnawing at the back of his mind.

While your own mind spiralled, you heard a knock at the door. It could only be one person. “Hello,” you said, opening the door to see Mark on crutches, “I'm sorry I didn't visit-”

Mark interrupted you by putting his crutches aside and enveloping you in a hug. Instantly, all your worries washed away. “Missed you,” he muttered into the fabric of your shirt.

“Missed you too,” you sighed.

The hug lasted for a bit, but eventually you had to pull away, walking over to the couch and leaving Mark to follow. “I just want to apologize,” Mark said after sitting, “I depended on you too much and I was reckless. I should've told you where I was and it was stupid of me to act like that.”

“I forgive you,” you took his hand in your own, “I'm sorry for yelling at you. And saying I wish I never met you. That wasn't true.”

“It's okay, I kind of needed a wake up call. Plus it got me thinking,” he began to grin slowly.

“Thinking?”

“Yes. Despite what you might think, I do that sometimes,” he chuckled, “I'm going to take some time off. No Spiderman shenanigans for a bit.”

“Are you serious?” you lifted your head, eyes widening.

“Yup. I need to heal, and also I literally never want to hear you say you wish you never met me ever again. I thought I was gonna die when you said that,” he said, clutching his chest dramatically.

“Mark,”

“Right, also there's this stubborn girl that I'm head over heels with. I can't win her heart or earn her forgiveness if I'm never around, right?” Mark's cheeks were pink, but he was smiling brightly.

“Just to clarify, you're talking about me right?” you said cautiously, “Otherwise this is going to be very embarrassing for the both of us.”

“Yes, I'm talking about you,” he whined, “Can I kiss you now? That'll heal all my wounds.”