Chapter Text
“Man, it's prom night. At least try to look a little enthusiastic.”
Mark deadpans. “I'm enthusiastic.”
Something—Yukhei’s massive hand—slaps Mark over the back, and he nearly falls off his tulle-covered chair. The other boy whines like he didn’t just try to attempt murder. “Dude, you’ve been staring at your punch for the past 3 minutes. Look, I put it on my IG story.”
“Hey!” Mark protests when Yukhei shoves his phone in his face.
Yukhei swipes his hand back before Mark can bite it off. “C’mon, liven up! What's on your mind?”
“You know I hate things like these.”
“Okay, but you still let me and Yeri drag you here.”
“As if I had a choice.”
Yukhei waves him away unapologetically.
They've been friends for 8 years and counting now—him, Yukhei, and Yeri—but with the different paths they've gone down, they make an odd trio. There's Yukhei, star captain of the Midtown High School football team, and Yeri, one of New York’s most outspoken youth activists. And Mark.
Mark, a nobody.
The problem with being the friendly neighborhood Spiderman is that you can’t really find the time to do normal high schooler things. Mark knows he's spreading himself thin as it is, but on top of graduating and fighting crime, he supposes he’s doing alright.
The noise of sneakers squeaking against the gym floor makes him look up, eyes meeting with a pretty but angry looking Yeri.
“Both of you need to be dancing!” Yukhei and Mark exchange scared looks. “Up! Get up!”
“I’m taking a break!” Yukhei shrieks, hands up in defense. “You try break dancing for half an hour straight.”
Mark snickers, thinking back to Yukhei’s earlier attempts at doing the worm during a slow ballad. At this, Yeri smacks him on the shoulder.
“Ow-”
“What's your excuse, Mark Lee?”
“Um. My leg hurts.”
Yeri smacks him again. “Stop lying. I saw you doing kickflips off the apartment stairs this morning. And failing.”
Mark coughs weakly.
“I'm going to get punch,” Yeri says with an air of finality, “And when I get back? I better see the two of you having the time of your lives out there.”
Yukhei nods frantically next to him. Mark sighs.
She leaves in a flurry of glitter and satin, and Yukhei moves to get up. “I'm about to tear up this fucking dance floor.”
“Don't break anything.”
Yukhei grabs his arm, yanking the poor boy up like he weighs nothing. “You’re coming with me, aren’t you?” And, well, Mark doesn't really have a choice.
“I can’t dance, man.” Mark says. Yukhei ignores him and starts dragging him in the direction of the flashing dance floor. “Yukhei!”
Yukhei turns around, finally letting go of Mark’s wrist. “What?”
“I-”
Before he can finish his sentence, Mark feels a familiar tingle down the back of his neck and through his whole body. He freezes.
After getting bit by that radioactive spider, Mark went through… changes. That is, enhanced strength, webs coming out of his wrists, sticky fingers in the most literal sense possible—and this. Spidey sense. It comes and goes, but when it happens, Mark’s come to realize something very, very terrible always follows.
Mark tries not to look startled in front of Yukhei, but he's never been a good actor.
“Uh.” Even Yukhei can tell something is wrong under the cheap neon lighting. “Everything okay?”
Mark glances at the exit. No.
“Yeah, of course. Hey, I gotta, uh,” He starts backing up slowly. “Take a piss. Be right back.”
“Are you bailing?!”
“I'm not, I'll be back.” Mark lies, quickly bolting for the gym double doors.
“Mark!”
He makes it into the hallway, nearly colliding with a group of girls fussing over their dresses. They shoot him dirty looks, but Mark pays them no mind as he races down the moonlit hallways, further and further away from the festivities.
If there’s one thing he’s learned as Spiderman, it’s that his instincts are always right. Hell, it was thanks to those instincts that made Spiderman so good at saving lives.
That foreboding feeling creeping down his spine certainly means this situation isn't any different. He skids to a stop at a familiar locker, his spidey sense still going haywire.
36, 4, 22. Click. Mark swings the door open, lifting his college physics textbook to reveal the signature red and blue of his suit. He grabs it. Inhales. Exhales.
Putting on the suit has always been nothing short of a big deal for him. It's the act of erasing your identity, destroying it, and replacing it with someone better in all aspects of the word. Spiderman is a persona. He's confident, he's funny. He's nothing Mark Lee is.
Mark used to have trouble taking off that mask mentally. Sometimes he couldn't tell where Spiderman ended and Mark Lee began, and he'd start dreading the moments where he didn't have the mask on.
But it’s gotten better; months of experience have gotten him used to the weird alter ego shtick. Of course, Yukhei and Yeri were a big part in pulling him out of that slump, but it's not like he’s been totally transparent to them about his “part-time job”.
That is, nobody knows. Not Yukhei, not Yeri, and certainly not his aunt. Mark’s made sure to keep his identity a secret, because in the time he’s spent as Spiderman, he's made twice as many enemies—dangerous enemies who wouldn't stop at anything to take him down, even if that meant targeting innocent loved ones.
God knows what he'd do if they ever got caught in the crossfire. He’d never forgive himself.
Mark makes quick work of swapping out his ill-fitting tux for his spider suit, stuffing the black and white mess of fabric into his locker.
Then he hears it.
A quiet humming noise, barely audible to the point that Mark has to slow his own breathing to detect it. It’s incredibly unsettling—like when you open the rear window while driving down the highway, and it sounds weird and wrong and uncomfortable so you roll the window back up and just deal with the stuffiness.
In the midst of trying to pick up on where the strange noise is coming from, he suddenly realizes something else. Besides the hum, there’s absolutely nothing to be heard in the empty hallways. At least before he could hear the thrum of the shitty prom playlist, but now? Nothing.
He barely catches the movement on the ceiling directly above him. When he finally snaps his neck up, his jaw goes slack—a miniscule black dot, quickly multiplying into dozens, no, hundreds of neon colored splashes. The humming gets deafeningly louder, and Mark can only stumble back in awe.
“What… the fuck.” He whispers.
Mark has dealt with octopus cosplaying scientists and flying green men, but this? He falls onto his back, too starstruck to maintain any semblance of dignity.
The monstrosity continues to grow in spite of his shock, swallowing up the ceiling at an impossibly fast rate. Adrenaline finally kicking in after a few more seconds of gaping, Mark moves to do something—anything—but it's too late.
He feels it before he realizes what exactly is happening; a sudden bout of confusion, then nausea, and then weightlessness. Suddenly, Mark is 6 feet off the ground, floating up as if being tugged on a string.
He curses, but he can't even hear himself over the now deafening humming noise. A desperate lunge for his still open locker door proves to be futile, and before Mark can do anything, he finds himself sucked all the way into the bubbling mass on the ceiling.
***
“Hey, kid. You can't sleep here.”
Mark’s eyes snap open, his entire body jolting with a start.
The first thing he notices is the darkness. It's nighttime, and it's cold—nearly freezing, actually. Mark blinks at his surroundings in a haze of confusion. Last he remembered, he was at prom. Now, squinting in the dark, he’s found himself in some brick-walled alley with no recollection of getting there.
The person in front of him, a heavy-set bearded man in an apron, sighs impatiently. “Look, you gotta get outta here before the garbage men come.”
“Huh?” Mark says groggily. He shifts from where he’s half-sitting, half-laying, only to be met with a loud rustling noise. Garbage bags, he realizes when he looks down, surrounding him like some sort of gross bed.
Then, he blanches. The red and blue of his suit stick out like a sore thumb among the sea of black, looking almost neon even in the dim light. His tux—what happened to his tux? To prom?
Mark’s hands fly to his face, and to his dread, the feeling of his skin tight mask only confirms his suspicions.
“You high or something? Drunk?”
He almost laughs. Mark Lee, under the influence? Sure, maybe in an alternate universe. It takes a bit of maneuvering but soon enough he's up and standing, albeit a bit wobbly.
The man doesn’t wait for an actual response, dropping a bulging garbage bag down. It lands into the Mark-shaped depression like a puzzle piece. “Nice costume, by the way,” he nods, dusting his gloved hands off.
“... Thanks?”
The man shrugs and starts to shuffle back to the backdoor of whatever business he came through. Mark watches him go up the steps, pausing suddenly at the very top.
“You got the colors all wrong, though.” He turns to Mark, only the faint glow of the street lamp ahead illuminating the frown on his face. “No fooling anyone with that.” The door shuts behind him with a resounding clang.
Mark gives his suit a quick once over, still very much still red and blue. His eyebrows pinch together in confusion.
Alas, he doesn’t have time to ponder over strange comments (being a public figure got him plenty of those). With a shrug, he starts treading towards the opening of the alleyway, snow crunching beneath his feet.
He stops in his tracks. Blinks down at the ground. Wonders if he’s going insane, because it certainly didn’t snow in June. No, Mark has gotten extremely acquainted with the sticky heat of summer, too many days spent with Yukhei sitting in front of the freezer.
Cold puffs of air even appear each time he exhales, and he can’t help the shiver that runs down his back. God, it feels just like the middle of winter. He cranes his neck up at the top of the alleyway, shooting a quick web and swinging himself up to the rooftop.
Mark lands gracefully, stopping just short of the edge. The bleak white snow, he realizes with a sinking feeling, indeed blankets the entire city. Under normal circumstances, it would be nothing short of ordinary, but this sort of weather was supposed to be long gone once the winter ended. Mark has a hard time believing New York could turn into this overnight.
And then there was the issue of his memory. Or, his lack thereof. Mark shakes his head, trying to recall anything helpful. He’d been with Yukhei and Yeri last night at prom. Yeri’s heel broke just before they left so Mark gave her his ratty Vans. He refused to dance, and…
Mark groans in frustration. It’s like his memory just stops there, a road closed sign blocking off his stream of thoughts. He refused to dance at prom and the next thing he knew he was waking up in a pile of trash in his spider suit in the middle of the Arctic.
Whatever transpired between point A and point B had to have been monumentally important, but he can’t recall a single detail. Mark wants to scream at his own brain.
He leans against the railing overlooking the city and heaves a sigh. There’s no way he’s that far from Midtown High, judging by how clear the Chrysler Building looks from here. If Mark squints, he should be able to see his favorite deli.
Huh. When did they change their name to Coin Laundry?
Something feels off.
Mark clambers onto the railing to see better, his agility making it impossible for him to lose balance. He’s 100% sure his inability to locate his most frequented spots in Manhattan isn’t his fault, because despite his muddled memories, Mark knows this city like the back of his hand.
Hell, he spends all of his free time swinging around these exact buildings. He grew up here. And while construction is a daily occurence, there’s no possible way places on the map could just disappear like that.
It’s not that the entire city has become something new. Mark can recognize a few denoting parts, but it feels like someone’s scrambled each block in some different way. He feels himself getting more and more uneasy.
Because this skyline, this building, that building, the skyscraper that should be there that isn’t-
This is not his city.
No, Mark corrects himself. Maybe it is? It still feels like New York, from the cars honking wildly to the bass pulsing from nearby nightclubs. That sleepless energy is still there, but it’s just… different.
He shoots a web onto a taller building, pulling himself higher with experienced ease. From here, his eyes catch something across the block—neon lights on a chinese restaurant, casting the street in flashy greens and magentas. Mark blinks when he realizes he’s been staring for too long.
In the midst of this strange, disordered world Mark’s found himself in, he realizes with belated confusion that these lights burning holes into his corneas are the only things that he finds familiar. Not this foreign city, not these weird people, but… neon lights.
Mark is losing his mind, it’s the only explanation. He drops his head into his hands and lets out a frustrated groan. What could there possibly be to remember?
Prom.
A strange sensation.
Neon.
Unworldly neon colors, swallowing him up. He can’t breathe. He’s floating. He’s-
The memory slams into Mark so hard he nearly loses his grip and falls off of his perch, stabilizing himself with a gasp. Fuck. The portal thing. The thing! He’d been in the hallway and suddenly he wasn’t, and now he’s found himself in some… freak world he has absolutely no recollection of. Mark drops down and puts his head between his knees, breathing heavily.
This is absolutely fucking batshit insane.
So, he pieces together, eyes shut tight. I went into the portal, and somewhere along the way, I came out. And now…
After a brief moment, Mark forces himself to get up, eyes darting around cautiously. As crazy as it sounds, this whole portal thing explains a lot about how he feels like someone’s thrown him into a completely different New York. In fact, where the hell was he, actually?
“Mommy, look!”
He blinks down at the voice somewhere on the ground, eyes landing on a little girl outfitted in a massive pink puffer jacket. She tugs on her mother’s hand, pointing at Mark and jumping up and down.
“Sun Spider!” she shouts.
Her mother glances upwards, eyebrows lifting at the sight of Mark. “Oh, honey. Don’t look at the strange man…” Her voice sounds pinched as she tugs her daughter away.
Mark stares after them, dumbfounded.
It’d been a while since Spiderman became a prominent figure in daily New York life, so he hasn’t had to deal with weird reactions like that for a long time. Time and experience eventually eased the worries of New Yorkers unsure of the strange masked guy swinging around the city.
Those beginning weeks of crime fighting had been hard. Hell, the Daily Bugle called him Spider Kid.
And Spider Boy. And once, when he pissed off the editor-in-chief Kim Doyoung, Spider Idiot. Mark has surely been called every arachnid name possible, but this one?
“Sun Spider, ” he mumbles to himself. He shakes his head. Maybe he heard wrong.
Or maybe. Mark distantly remembers his short interaction with the man in the alley.
The wrong color?
It feels like he’s been handed a bunch of puzzle pieces, but none of them fit together. He’s definitely not in New York—or, at least, his New York. This revelation, however, opens up a million thoughts about the existence of multiple New Yorks, and by extension, multiple universes.
Mark decides he isn’t ready for a bout of existential anxiety. He can deal with that later.
Secondly, the few odd interactions with the people around him have led him to believe that nobody really knows who he is. Mark wouldn’t call Spiderman a celebrity, but he’s certainly well known—in his world, at least.
If Mark has found himself in this weird version of New York where his favorite deli supposedly doesn’t exist and it’s winter all the time, then maybe other things could be different too. Spiderman, something so deeply ingrained into his New York, might not even exist.
The thought frightens him so much he immediately forces himself to stop thinking about it.
Mark’s first order of business, he decides instead, is finding Midtown High, the last place he clearly remembers himself being at. If anything was going to get him home, it’d be the thing that got him here in the first place.
He pulls himself to a higher vantage point and evaluates the city with careful eyes. In spite of the glaring differences of the layout, Mark is able to pinpoint a large building in the spot where Midtown High would be if this was normal Queens. He exhales in relief. The architecture, the location, even the walkway bridge that crosses the street and goes into the 3rd floor—this building has to be Midtown.
The building isn’t that far away, but the cold temperatures make the journey there absolutely hellish. Mark’s teeth are chattering by the time his feet land on the top of the bridge. In spite of this, he’s never been so glad to be back at school.
His eyes scan the old letters on the front of the building. “Midtown,” he reads. He does a mental fist pump.
“… -School of Science and Technology…”
His heart sinks.
Midtown School of Science and Technology spans nearly twice as much campus space than Midtown High. Unlike his old rundown high school, this one feels clean and new—no graffiti lining the walls, no skateboarders loitering around the stairs. Even in the darkness of night, it’s actually quite pleasant to look at.
Besides the small portion that looks exactly like Midtown High, additional buildings border the campus. One sprawling building in particular is lined with small windows, and Mark realizes that it’s a dormitory.
This Midtown is a prep school. He wants to laugh at how ridiculous it all seems, but the thought of being stuck in this strange universe sobers him up quickly.
The point of interest, his locker, is located on the first floor of Midtown High on the east wing. Mark scans the Science campus, gaze locking on something identical.
He hesitates. Spiderman may be a vigilante, but he’s above breaking into schools, thank you very much.
Is he? Below him, the city thrums with life.
Same, but so different from what he knows.
Well… Mark has to get home somehow. He aims a web at the top of the building in question, silently thanking the cloak of nighttime as he moves. Judging from the reactions earlier, Mark would probably have much more to deal with now that he’s in the heart of the city.
His feet find the brick wall of the building and he pulls himself up over the ledge with ease. The rooftop is exactly like he remembers at Midtown High, right down to the combination lock barring entrance to the lower floors. He turns it over in his hands, eyebrows knitting together.
Would it work here, too?
In Mark’s freshman year, his National Honors Society senior mentor Jaehyun Jung showed him the best hangout spot in Midtown High: a secluded rooftop that not even the teachers knew about. Only accessible if you knew the closely guarded combination of the lock, the rooftop quickly became one of Mark’s favorite places.
This was, of course, two years prior to Mark’s spider incident, when he actually had the time to be in National Honors Society. He hasn’t been up here since.
Mark examines the lock, fingers brushing against the dent in the side. It looks like someone tried to use hedge clippers on it in lieu of knowing the combination, which is exactly what happened during a senior prank gone wrong last year.
He exhales shakily. This has to be the real deal. Then, his combination…
He puts in one number, then the other. The last one goes in without a hitch.
Just as the lock opens, a smooth voice rings out from behind him.
“Identity theft is a crime, you know.”
Mark jolts back, his heart beating erratically in his chest.
It’s a boy—pretty young, from what Mark can deduce from the high tenor of his voice. It’s all he can really do considering the stranger has his entire face covered with a mask and a hood.
Mark’s gaze flickers downwards at his clothing, a white skin-tight suit with a familiar design. Gold streaks join together in an unreadable shape in the middle of his chest, branching out across his arms and back. A similarly colored hood covers the top of his head, and in a swift movement, the stranger pulls the hood down.
There’s no mistaking it, he’s dressed as Spiderman. With how close the boy’s outfit is to his own, Mark feels like he’s looking in a mirror.
Same, but different.
“What?” the guy says. “Nothing to say for yourself?”
Mark stares. “I…”
“I couldn’t believe it, you know. You were swinging around the city like a total pro. I was like, woah, maybe this imposter’s actually kind of cool.” He folds his arms, his entire demeanor changing suddenly. “But now you’re up to no good, and that’s where I draw the line.”
Mark sucks in a sharp breath. The stranger had been following him.
Spiderman, known for his unsurpassed spider sense and stealth, had been followed. Tailed, without even noticing for a single moment. Mark doesn’t know if he should feel impressed or threatened by the masked boy in front of him.
“Who are you?” Mark blurts out.
The boy tilts his head almost cutely. “You don’t know me?”
“... Um. Spiderman?”
The boy lets out a loud guffaw, throwing his head back with the force of his laughter. Mark blushes. “What kind of name is that?”
And, well. Mark is kind of offended. “It's not that bad.”
“I’m sure you're well aware of who I am. I mean, considering you're clearly pretending to be me...” The stranger gestures at his mask.
“No,” Mark says. “Mind refreshing me?” He honestly doesn't have the time for friendly banter, or whatever this is. Hidden by his back, he slowly reaches for the lock.
It happens so fast Mark can barely react. The boy aims, fires, and suddenly Mark’s hands are wrapped tightly against the door with a familiar webbing material. He tries to pull away, but to no avail. Mark is hopelessly stuck.
Seriously, who is this guy?
“Don't even think about it, Red.” The other approaches him slowly, looking Mark up and down. “Where'd you get the suit?”
Mark tugs at his hands again and groans. Curse this web’s impeccable tensile strength.
“Made it. Look, man. I'm not who you think I am.”
“And who do I think you are?”
Mark exhales in exasperation. “I don't know, some fanboy! I seriously don't know who you are, okay?”
“Where’d you get the web shooters?” The guy ignores his plea in favor of grabbing his wrist and examining it like a shiny new toy. “Fun little DIY project?” He turns his wrist over, looking up in surprise when he sees nothing but his suit.
Mark wrenches his shoulder away, effectively removing his wrist from the stranger’s grip.
They stare each other down for a good 5 seconds before the boy steps back.
“Who are you?” he demands.
“It's going to sound crazy.”
The guy crosses his arms. “Try me.”
“My name-...” Mark stops. Nobody knows the name behind the suit. Not his aunt, not Yukhei, not Yeri. He glances up at the stranger’s mask, a near perfect match to his own.
He has to get home. He has to tell him.
But he can’t.
Mark takes a deep breath and starts over. “I’m… not from your world. Or, at least, I don't think so.”
The other hasn't shown any visible reaction to his words, so Mark takes it as a cue to continue. “Last year, I was bit by a spider and woke up different.” He swallows. “Better.”
“In my world, I'm known as Spiderman. I swing around. Save the day. Stuff like that. But then I got sucked into this… portal thing. And I woke up here.” Mark scoffs, mostly at himself. He sounds insane. “You don't believe me, do you?”
“Well, it’s not a very original origin story.”
Mark scowls. “What do you want me to do? Show you my Spiderman ID card? I’ve got nothing on me.”
The other barks out a laugh. “Leave that for the NYPD, Red. I’m sure you’ll have a lot to explain once they find you-”
“You’re not leaving me here.” Mark grits out, growing more and more irritated by the second. Is this what it was like being on the receiving end of shitty banter? He makes a mental note to tone down his own snarkiness once he gets home.
That is, if he’s able to get home at all.
“Of course. I’ll let you go right now and you can continue, er,” The stranger taps his chin in pretend thought, “-breaking into this school.”
“I’m no-,” Mark starts defiantly. His words stop as a brisk gust of wind cuts through the rooftop, making the air feel like it’s dropped 10 more degrees. “Sh-shit. Why is it so cold? I’ll freeze to death before the cops even get here.”
“What do you mean why is it…” The other guy mutters lowly. He reaches out at Mark’s arm, tugging on the thin fabric stretched across. “Christ, is this all you’re wearing?”
“Sorry I didn’t dress for the occasion, asshole. I told you I just woke up here. L-last I remembered, it was J-June in my world.”
The stranger doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Mark is caught somewhere between seething and shivering.
“It’s June right now.”
Okay, so Mark isn’t the only one in this conversation that sounds totally crazy. “No, it’s not.” He waves at the sky. “It can’t be.”
“Yeah, well,” the other guy says, scrutinizing Mark. Mark can’t see his eyes, but it feels like he’s staring holes into his face. “New York’s been like this for the past four years.”
“I wouldn’t know, I’m not from your New York.”
There’s another beat of silence, and then the stranger uncrosses his arms. “If you tell me my name, I’ll let you go.”
Fuck, how is Mark supposed to know that? He bites back a snarky remark, because he actually does want to get out sooner than later. Maybe he’ll humor this Spiderman fraud and his little mind tricks.
“Uh. White Spider.” The stranger shakes his head.
“Spider Boy. Spider Kid. Um…” Mark squints at the gold and white getup. “Spider… Angel?”
The other snorts, reaching for something in his back pocket. Mark didn't even notice he had pockets. “Save the smooth talk for our second date, casanova.” He procures a tiny vial and holds it out somewhat reluctantly.
“I got it right?” Mark asks, bewildered.
“Nope. Not even close.”
Mark stares at the vial, then at the guy. He’s not sure what this idiot expects him to do with both of his hands tied, literally.
The guy groans when Mark doesn't move, unscrewing the vial himself. “Seriously, do I have to do everything around here? It's solvent. It dissolves the web so you don't have to wait the whole hour.”
“You don't have to explain to me what solvent is.” Mark says. He almost wants to laugh at how ridiculous it feels, having a complete stranger explain something that he formulated himself back home. “Why are you letting me go if I didn't get your name right?”
“Should I take the vial back? Because this stuff is ridiculously pricey to make-”
Mark pushes his hands against the vial, speeding up the flow of the solvent. Immediately, the material starts to dissolve into a useless jelly and he's finally able to dislodge himself from the door. He turns a sharp eye to the stranger. “Did you really have to web me? What happened to talking it out like adults?”
The other boy only huffs. “Wah, wah. I can’t believe you don't know me. Actually, I'm offended.”
“I told you I’m-”
“Not from here, I know. And you sounded like a lunatic trying to explain it.”
“But you… still let me go?”
The stranger hums in response, instead reaching for the lock and clicking it closed. “How’d you know the combo for this?”
This guy, Mark realizes, has a bad habit of answering Mark’s questions with even more questions. It's terribly irritating, but Mark refuses to be beat at his own game. “What's your name?”
The other doesn't seem to be expecting Mark's reply, but he recomposes himself quickly. “Sun Spider.”
Something in Mark’s mind clicks like a puzzle piece. That little girl earlier who called him Sun Spider had thought he was this guy.
So this imposter was actually something of a public figure in this world. Like Mark. Like Spiderman. “Oh.”
“Shit, you really are clueless.” Sun Spider says, disbelief coloring his voice.
“You don't have to believe me. I just have to get back home-”
“Hey, stop!” Sun Spider says, grabbing Mark’s arm before he can get his hands on the lock again. “You’re not breaking into a school. How the hell would that even help you?”
Mark jerks away. “Because I was at Midtown when the portal opened. Why wouldn't the other side of it be here too?”
“Wait, wait. You go to Midtown in your alternate universe?”
Mark cringes inwardly. It feels weird that this stranger from another world is the one that knows the most about his life—both sides of his life. “Sure.” He mutters. “Just leave me alone. I'll figure it out.”
“You can't possibly think you’re just gonna break in there and find some… interdimensional portal.” Sun Spider glances around like he’s making sure nobody’s around to hear his next words. “Hypothetically, let’s say I believed you. Then what? What’s your plan of action now?”
“I’m going to go inside here and look for…” Mark trails off. Okay, so his plan sounds kind of stupid when he says it out loud.
Sun Spider pushes his hand on the door, effectively blocking Mark from doing anything rash. “Look,” he says, voice steady, ”This entire school is guarded with, like, state of the art security measures. Armed guards would show up before you even stepped foot inside.”
A moment passes and Mark feels the adrenaline seeping out of his body. His shoulders drop in defeat. “Fine. So what do I do?”
“First off, let’s get out of here before you turn into a popsicle.” Sun Spider spins around and starts to march away. “C’mon. We’re going to my secret lair.”
“You have a secret lair?” Mark says, trailing after him.
“Sort of.”
“Where? Underground? Shit, like the Batcave?”
“The what?”
“Er... “ Mark trails off, left wondering if this sad, terrible alternate universe doesn’t have DC. “Nevermind.”
They reach the end of the rooftop where the building overlooks the city. Sun Spider turns to him. “Stay close. There's cameras all over.” Then, in one fell swoop, he disappears over the edge of the rooftop.
Normally, climbing walls would be a breeze. They’re so high up on the building, though, that the wind blows even colder than it does on the ground. Mark has a hard time being agile when he’s trying not to shiver out of his skin.
Sun Spider shoots a web at a nearby fire escape on a separate building, swinging across and landing with a muffled clang.
Cautiously, Mark follows him. “No offense, but why don't we just walk? It’d get us out of this campus way faster.”
The other ignores him in favor of crawling further up the brick wall. Mark watches him from the fire escape, eyes widening when he sees Sun Spider reaching for one of the windows.
“Wait-”
Sun Spider forces the window open with a grunt.
“What are you doing?” Mark hisses, aghast. “I thought you were against breaking and entering!”
Sun Spider only gestures for him to follow, and then smoothly slips inside the window.
Mark lets out a deep breath. This guy had better know what he was doing.
He slides into the window feet-first, landing feet-first with a muffled thump.
It’s dark in here, even darker than outside. A movement out of the corner of his eye interrupts the haze of confusion, and he spins around to the faint outline of Sun Spider drawing the curtains closed.
Next to him, Mark can barely make out a small desk illuminated by the streetlights outside.
“Did we just break into some kid’s dormitory?” Mark whisper-screams at him. “I thought you were taking me to your hideout.”
Sun Spider hushes him, striding to the door and pressing his ear against it. After a tense second, he finally relaxes and flips the lightswitch on.
“This is my secret hideout.” he says, turning to Mark.
With the lights on, Mark can see every single detail of Spider Sun’s suit—white, with gold accents spanning across the entire body. If the suit looked similar to Mark’s earlier, then it looked like an exact duplicate now. There were still glaring differences, of course, like the built-in hood. Mark silently wonders about the practicality of a hood during combat.
Sun Spider bends down and picks a sweatshirt off the floor. Now that Mark can see properly, he realizes that the room is actually quite chaotic. Mismatched posters cover nearly every inch of the walls, along with a pepper of glow-in-the-dark stars placed in a single corner of the ceiling. On the floor, random articles of clothing are strewn across like a makeshift rug. Despite all this, the room looks... lived in. Comfortable.
“Wait.” Mark says, frowning. “This-... you live here?”
“Yeah. Sorry it’s so messy. I wasn’t expecting guests.” Sun Spider sounds sort of apologetic. He tosses the sweatshirt onto the desk chair where it joins a growing pile of clothing.
“So you go here. You go to Midtown? Holy shit. Hold on. How old are you?”
“Eighteen. Senior year.”
Mark gapes. “So am I. Fuck, wait. Are you me? Like an alternate universe version of me?”
Sun Spider makes a strange noise, somewhere between a gasp and a screech. “I’d really, really hope not-”
“But our lives are basically the same! You go to Midtown, I go to Midtown. We’re both masked vigilantes. The spider symbolism.” Mark waves his hands in the air vaguely. “The spider symbolism!”
“And,” Sun Spider says, now worrying at his hands. “We were both bit by spiders. I mean, that’s how I got my powers. You know Suh Corp? My class went there on a field trip-”
“- and they had radioactive spiders and one got out-” Mark cuts himself off. “Wait, Johnny Suh exists in this universe?”
“Yeah. He’s rich.”
“Fuck. Same.”
They both stew in silence for a bit, Mark thinking about the implications of running into your duplicate in another universe. Did he just fuck up the very fabric of space time continuum? What if everything just ceased to exist right now because he fucked up so badly?
“Take off your mask.” Sun Spider says suddenly. Mark snaps his neck up to stare at him, incredulous.
“Dude, I don’t even know you.”
The other puts his thumb under his own mask, not lifting it enough for it to come off. “I just. I want to know if you’re-...”
If you’re me. Mark sighs. “Fine, yeah. I get it.”
“Okay, turn around. On a count of 3?”
Mark grunts an affirmative, turning to face the Michael Jackson poster on the opposite wall.
“One...”
He hooks his thumbs under the seam where his mask meets his suit.
“Two...”
He tugs upwards with shaky hands, feeling his hair flop back onto his forehead as the mask comes off.
“Three.”
His heart pounds in his chest as he turns back around.
Oh, no. Actually, oh yes! The guy Mark is now staring at definitely is NOT himself. Sun Spider unmasked is, incidentally, just a dude— a ridiculously, awfully pretty dude with tan skin and moles and a perpetual sulky look on his face. Mark is so caught off guard by this revelation that he doesn't say anything for an awkward 3 seconds.
Sun Spider, on the other hand, looks relieved at the sight of Mark, extending a suited hand. “Hi, I’m Donghyuck.”
“Mark.” Mark replies, dazed. He shakes his hand.
“You're not me.” Donghyuck giggles. Actually giggles. “That's good.”
Mark’s heart thuds in his chest. Staring at the other boy, he somehow wishes it was his alternate universe self, because then he wouldn't have to deal with the weird twisting feeling in his chest he’s currently experiencing. Maybe Mark has asthma. He ought to get it checked out when he gets home.
“So-”
“You-”
They both stop, surprised faces mirroring one another.
“You’re so... young,” Donghyuck says, not unkindly. He sounds surprised if anything. “I mean, you look really young.”
Mark scowls. “I'm your age. High school senior, remember?”
“Ugh. That’s why I said you look young.” Donghyuck balls up his mask, casting a worried glance at the alarm clock on his desk. “Crap. You reminded me. It's getting pretty late and I have school tomorrow.”
“Oh. I can leave-”
Donghyuck looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “Hold up, Red. I didn't say you had to leave. Where would you even go?”
Mark pauses. Oh, right. He doesn't have a house in this universe. “Er…”
“You can stay here. Tomorrow, after school, we’re investigating.” Donghyuck paces to his wardrobe, sliding it open and grabbing 2 pairs of pajamas. He throws one to Mark. “Here, I think we’re the same size.”
Mark stares down at the mess of clothing in his hands. “Wait, wait, wait,” he frowns, “First off, aren’t you afraid I’m gonna rob you in your sleep or something? And investigate what? I literally have no idea how I got here. We’d be looking for nothing.”
“I don’t think you’ll rob me. You look like a little lost deer.” Donghyuck’s web shooters disconnect with a click, and he sets them in a box on the floor. “Anyway, you could say I have a… hunch. For the past 2 months, my friend Chenle and I have been detecting weird energy spikes in one single part of the city.”
“Slow down,” Mark says, putting a hand up. He tries to ignore the lost deer comment. “You said you and your friend? He’s involved in all of this too?”
“My closest friends know about Sun Spider, if that’s what you mean.”
“Friends. Like, friends, plural.” The thought of anyone close to Mark knowing about the other side of his life literally makes him queasy. “That's… different.”
“What?”
“Nobody knows about me being Spiderman.” Mark mumbles. “Like, nobody. It's just too dangerous.”
“Well, they're my very best friends.” Donghyuck says matter-of-factly, like it’s the only reason he could possibly need.
To Mark, it sounds naive.
“Yeah, well.” Mark feels awkward, like he’s said too much. He’s been doing that a lot ever since he met Donghyuck. “Where were we? Energy spikes?”
“Right.” Donghyuck says. Mark isn't looking, but he can feel the other’s burning gaze on him. “Anyway, these energy spikes aren't normal at all. Totally off the charts.”
“And you think it has something to do with me?”
“More like the thing that brought you here. Besides, I wouldn’t have let you in here if I didn’t think someone in the city was already messing with tech like that.” Donghyuck turns around so that his back faces Mark. “I'm changing now, so don't look.”
“Okay.” Mark stammers, spinning around jerkily. “Don’t look over here either.”
Donghyuck hums in affirmation as Mark peels off his suit and pulls the pajamas on as fast as he can.
“School finishes at 3 tomorrow, so I should be back here by then.”
Mark stares at the wall. Donghyuck must really, really like Michael Jackson, if the multiple posters and vinyls are anything to go by. Then, Donghyuck’s words finally register in his head. “Wait, three?”
“Yeah, why? Does your school get out at night or something?”
“No, it’s just. I’ll be holed up in here until then...” Mark frowns. “Can I turn around now?"
“Hold on a second.” There’s a rustling noise behind him, and then light footsteps. “Okay, now.”
Mark turns. If Donghyuck looked sleek and cool in his spider suit, then he looks unbelievably harmless now. Idly, he remembers this is the same guy that snuck up on him without him knowing a thing, and he snaps out of it.
Donghyuck neatly folds his suit in his arms, placing it inside the box he put his web shooters in. “By all means, feel free to explore. But not as Spiderman, because people will wonder why Sun Spider’s decked out in a new suit. I’m telling you, Tweeter’s gonna have a field day.”
Mark barks out a disbelieving laugh. “Tweeter?”
“What?” Donghyuck stuffs the box inside his closet before rummaging around on a higher shelf. “You don’t have that?”
“It’s called Twitter in my world, actually.”
Donghyuck straightens up and scrunches up his nose. “That sounds stupid. Do you call them Twits or something?”
“No, they’re called Tweets.”
“Literally makes no sense.” Donghyuck grumbles, poking his head back into the closet. After a moment, he makes an aha! sound and pulls out a thick, fluffy blanket.
“You’re cool with sleeping on the floor, right?” he asks Mark, shuffling to him in a weird step. Mark realizes belatedly that he’s actually clearing the ground of debris with his feet, like some sort of Swiffer Sweeper.
“Uh, yeah,” Mark replies. He picks at the thin shirt Donghyuck gave him, a worn-out long-sleeved tee with the words Academic Decathlon 2020 printed on it. “Hey, quick question.”
“Shoot.”
“Why is it so cold?”
Donghyuck drops the blanket on the floor unceremoniously, eyebrow raised. “I mean, the heater’s on, but I guess I could turn it up-”
“No, like.” Mark waves his hands in the air. “You said it’s June. Why is it snowing?”
Donghyuck blinks and then makes a noise of understanding. “Climate change started getting really bad a couple years back. New York’s been this cold wasteland ever since.” He shrugs like he’s talking about something trivial. “There’s basically no sun and it sucks, but at least we didn’t flood like other coastal cities.”
“Jesus,” Mark says soberly. The irony of Donghyuck’s hero persona, Sun Spider, isn’t lost on him.
Donghyuck plops on his bed, eyeing Mark. “Is it not like that in your New York?”
“I mean, there’s climate change, but it’s not this bad. Right now it’s hot and sticky.”
The other sighs enviously. “That sounds really nice.”
Mark doesn’t say anything after that. The bed creaks as Donghyuck stands back up to grab a rattling cup on his desk.
“I don’t have an extra toothbrush.”
“It’s fine.”
The two head to a communal bathroom to freshen up and then it’s back to Donghyuck’s dorm. They don’t run into anyone else in the building, but Mark supposes that’s to be expected with how late it is.
That night, Mark stares at the cluster of stars in the corner of Donghyuck’s ceiling, his mind too jumbled to just go to sleep.
(He’d been amazed at Donghyuck’s ability to fall asleep at the drop of a hat. The guy had hopped into his bed, said goodnight, and then he was gone. Was that a Sun Spider ability or was Donghyuck just like that?)
So, an overview—, Mark assesses. First he had been at prom, and then he fell through some stupid portal and ended up in another New York at another Midtown with another Spider-man with— Mark stops his brain before it explodes. Nope, too much.
Tomorrow I’ll deal with it, he yawns, finally feeling the sheer exhaustion hit his body. With Donghyuck’s help.