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Saturday mornings were always the same for him.
He got up early, just barely beating the sun every time, and carefully slipped out of his bunk. He did it for the sake of whoever was in the room below them more than anything. Ganke was a heavy sleeper, probably due to his tendency to pull all-nighters.
He swiftly slipped on his jacket, his shoes, and slung the backpack and duffle he’d packed the night before over his shoulders. The backpack had what he’d need to stay the night at home, most of it homework crammed in with his work clothes. The duffle held the remains of last week’s spray paint. He’d only had the time and money to grab a couple of fresh cans this week. It didn’t matter. He was almost done anyway.
He walked slowly out of the dorms through a cloud of melatonin, taking in the empty hallways. The only sign of life in the world was the ever-present traffic moving along through the glass. As he opened the door to the street, the cool air of the AM and the dulcet sounds of the Brooklyn morning cleared a bit of loneliness out of him.
By the time he descended into the station, the black of the sky was fading into a shade of light navy. By the time he climbed back out onto the pavement to switch lines, a dim, cloudy morning floated over morning joggers and suits juggling their phones with cups of coffee and bagels. He returned to the flickering white light of the subway, taking the last train to his destination. Despite the bustle of the early morning starting to pick up, he managed to slip into the tunnel unnoticed.
Even as the darkness enveloped him, he felt like he could perfectly see the path before him. He’d been down here so many times, after all. Even so, he lit the way with his phone, leaping over the fence with ease. The same emotions came over him every time. He was a bit numb to them at this point, and trudged onward, not bothering to look back at memories of his uncle.
Eventually, he stepped into his little corner of the universe. He flipped the light switch and watched as the last sixteen months of his life flickered into view.
He couldn’t remember when exactly he’d started it. What he did remember was that one day he’d filled his sketchbook to the brim with drawings of his friends and decided that he had to throw them up. At first, he was hesitant to use Uncle Aaron’s secret spot. But he figured that a mural dedicated to the Spider-people would feel most appropriate in the place where he’d been bit. Besides, the tunnel had plenty of free real estate in terms of wall space, and it was a secret spot. Something that belonged to him, like his memories of them.
He glanced up at the walls as he dug through his duffle bag, his friends’ frozen faces looking down on him. There was a small part of him that wondered if this was a bad idea. Seeing his pictures of them only accentuated his loneliness. Like they only existed if he did this. But it was the only way he could see them again. The thought made him feel helpless, and there was a stabbing pain in his chest. He took a deep breath to shoo it away.
Soon, the tunnel was filled with the hiss of aerosol. He worked with intense focus. Occasionally he’d take a few steps back to examine his work. He’d made the mistake before, but he’d always end up getting lost in the pictures on the wall. Even though he was always critical of his own work, he couldn’t help but feel just how much the mural brought them to life. The same memories he’d replayed in his head over and over crossed his mind yet again.
At some point, he collapsed onto the rickety couch behind him. He sank into the worn cushions, the comforting smell of paint imbued into the fabric. Looking up at the mural, his gaze jumped from person to person across the wall, tracing the lines on their faces.
For a moment he, again, questioned why he was doing something that only made him feel more alone. The conclusion he always came back to was that it was the only way he could keep them close to him. If the mural wasn’t proof enough, he had a stack of sketchbooks at home that would rest his case.
It was terrifying how the only proof they’d ever existed was through his hands. That it hadn’t all been some crazy dream. Every day he kept them close by drawing, painting, and webbing. But with each passing day, it felt more and more like it wasn’t enough. And there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing but draw, paint, and web.
As he stewed in his feelings, the walls felt a little tighter around him. His chest seemed to be trying to squeeze his heart up into his throat. The muffled sound of a train passing by was his only reminder that the rest of the world was out there. And so were they. Somewhere.
As the tracks rattled out into silence, he thought to check his phone. Eleven twenty. He blew out a breath of disbelief. He was a lot later than he’d wanted to be for his daily superheroing. He let out a soft grunt as he picked himself up off the couch, taking a minute to stretch. He crossed the floor to retrieve his bags, slinging them over his shoulders. He left the spray cans he’d brought strewn about the room to join their older siblings, and trudged towards the doorway.
He looked back on the mural again, unsure if he was done or not. When it came to projects like this, he was pretty much never satisfied with where he’d left things. Ultimately, he decided to leave it, at least for the time being. As much as he loved it, he needed a break from it too. Besides, Uncle Aaron had always said it was better to leave something at “good” rather than obsess over making it perfect. Once he was done reassuring himself, he turned to the wall and swung the power switch down, killing the lights.
Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks, looking back into the now pitch black room. What was once a space full of his colors and memories was now a void, and everything he’d expressed on that wall over the past however many months seemed to vanish in that instance.
“They’re out there,” he repeated to himself. “They’re out there.”
He took another deep breath to calm down before he whipped back around and continued out of the tunnel. As he guessed, nobody paid him much mind as he hopped up onto the platform and made his way to the stairs.
Even through the cloudy skies, the sun was still hard on his eyes as he popped out onto the street. He strolled down the sidewalk for about a block before slipping into an alleyway, dipping behind a dumpster to change into his suit. His stomach grumbled as he punched his arms through the sleeves and stuffed his clothes into his duffle. It was only then that he realized he hadn’t eaten yet.
As he climbed up the wall beside him, he racked his brain for what to eat. He dug through the small pocket of his backpack as he walked across the rooftop, fishing out a five and a handful of coins. Lenny’s wasn’t too far from the station, and the bodega man was a friend he’d made through goodwill. It wouldn’t hurt to pay him a visit.
His mind made, he took a step off the rooftop and let a web fly. As he swung down the street, he wondered where beneath him was the wall that kept his friends in his world.