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Noir is shivering when he stumbles through his door. He clutched at his side, ink black blood seeping through his fingers, mixing with rainwater into a diluted grey.
He grapples with the doorframe, trying to find the light-switch. His wet gloves slip on the wall and Noir nearly topples forward, catching himself on his rickety wood desk, the uneven legs screeching against the wood floor.
Noir clutches his head at the noise.
He should call someone.
No, Noir thinks as he shakes his head, no matter how much it throbs in protest. He shouldn’t call someone, he can’t call someone. No-one should see this, his weakness, his vulnerability. He’s dealt with worse, this won’t beat him now.
Noir turns slowly, trying to ignore how his vision spots out and how his stomach turns, grappling for the light-switch again. His slipping fingers eventually flick it on, his eyes being flooded with light. It feels like razors are being dug into his skull.
Noir stumbles around the counter of his kitchen, as he attempts to peel off his trenchcoat. His shrieking side stops him, and he resigns himself to working around his clothes.
He bumps into his counter, wincing and hissing as his hipbones stab his skin, even through his slacks. Noir tries to ignore the buzzing in his head and on his neck, stumbling down the hallway to his bedroom.
Or at least he was trying to, before his vision blacked out and he collapsed on the floor.
The last thing he heard was the shrill beeping of his interdimensional watch.
•••
Noir wakes up with a stabbing headache and the horrifying realization that he was not where he passed out.
He was laid out on a plush bed, softer than the 2 inch thin mattress (he’s only half-joking) he had at home. The mattress conformed to his body, like it was trying to swallow him up and get him to go back to sleep.
A dull ache radiated from his side, infecting his hip and side with an odd mix of pins and needles and a soft ache. He squinted his eyes open, wincing when the light entered his eyes. His vision was blurry and streaky, like what he saw when he didn’t have his goggles or glasses on.
Wait. He didn’t have his goggles on. That means he didn’t have his mask on.
What the fuck? Who took it off? Why’d they take it off?
Where was he?
He squinted around the room as he pushed himself up, ignoring the screaming pain in his side. As he brushed his eyes over dandelion colored walls and cotton white curtains, he realized he was in Miles’ Aunt May’s house.
He stumbled out of the bed, clutching his side, and shivered as cold air brushed against his shoulders. He realized with a heavy helping of horror that he was only in unfamiliar looking sleep pants. He looked around the room, panicked, but he didn’t see his clothes.
Sighing shakily, he grabbed the blanket that was previously spread out over him, wrapping it around his shoulders, hiding his scarred chest and sides. Shivering again, Noir shook himself slightly and walked out of the room.
The moment he shut the door, soft voices filtered up from downstairs, and alot of them. Noir squinted as he made his way down the stairs, only stopping to catch his breath. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he nearly had to double over to catch his breath.
Man, that stab really took it out of hi-
“Noir!” Someone shrieked from the kitchen, and Noir immediately looked up as Peni bounded over to him. “What’re you doing up? You shoulda called us to come help you!” The girl exclaimed worriedly, grabbing Noir’s arm and dragging him over to the couch.
As Peni pushed him down, PB, arms crossed and his amused expression hiding heavy concern, stood above him.
“Hey man,” He spoke, smiling gently, “how’re you feeling?”
“Like a milli’n bucks.” Noir winced internally at the rasp and slur of his voice. He cleared his throat slightly, squinting up at PB. “Wha’ happen’d?”
“Your watch went off.” Miguel answered in a gentle tone that belied his stature. He walked over to stand next to PB, handing Noir his glasses. “We answered the call, and pretty much found you passed out on your floor.” Miguel crossed his arms. “You were hurt and soaked from the rain, so we brought you here.”
Noir shoved his glasses onto his face, trying to hide how his hands shook. Miles bounced up in between Miguel and PB, the men sliding out of the way slightly.
“What happened, man?” The boy asked. “People don’t pass out for no reason.” He covered up the severity of the statement with a small smile.
Noir hugged his blanket tighter, looking down at his lap.
“I had a run-in wi’ my dimension’s Rhino, and ‘e was able to throw me around some, and when I was gettin’ back up, ‘e slashed my side a bit. I guess the cold an’ the blood loss got to me a little.”
PB’s eyebrow quirked up, before he spoke,
“Throw you around? Whadya mean by that?”
Noir made a small noise, then spoke, “Oh, ‘e jus’ threw me into a couple walls, ‘s fine.”
“Into a couple walls?” Gwen asked incredulously, hands on her hips.
“Yeah, c’mon, you can’ say it’s nev’r happened to you.”
“I mean, yeah,” Gwen chuckled slightly, before sobering up and continuing, “but you could’ve called us, Rhino isn’t someone you go up against alone.”
“I handled it.” Noir answered quietly, slight confusion at everyone’s concern evident in his voice. “It’s not something you guys should have to worry about.”
“We’re your friends,” Peni spoke again. “it’s our job to worry about you.”
Noir huffed out a laugh, before standing abruptly.
“I ‘ppreciate it, fellas. But I’m gonna probably get goin’ now.” Noir said. “Where’re my clothes?”
“I’d let you know, buddy,” PB said, “but I don’t think you should go quite yet.”
“Whadya mean?” Noir asked, slightly surprised.
“You nearly got stabbed, kid.” Jess answered from the kitchen counter. Noir stamped down the flare of…something, at being called kid. “You’ve gotta rest a little longer.”
“But ‘m fine.” Noir protested defensively. “I can go back, ‘m fine.”
Suddenly, Noir felt a warm hand on his shoulder. Without thinking, Noir whipped around, blanket falling off his shoulders. He smacked the hand away, his hands coming up into a defensive position.
“Whoa man!” PB backed up, hands up in a placating gesture. “It’s ok, it’s me.” The older man stepped slightly closer to Noir, “Are you ok, buddy?”
No, Noir thought, I’m not.
“Yea-Yeah.” Noir put his hands down. “‘M f-fine.”
“You sure?” Ham asked, floating up to his shoulder. “You don’t look fine, kiddo.”
“Don’ call me that.” Noir grumbled. Everyone ignored him.
“You should sit down, man.” PB reached out to Noir, but his hands fell on air as Noir backed away.
“I’m fine.” Noir grit out, his voice becoming clear in anger.
“Noir, you’ll pass out again.” Miguel said. “You need to sit down.”
Noir didn’t reply, only faced the floor and walked away. Hobie stepped into his way.
“You sure you’re alright, mate?” He asked, hands placating. “You look sick.”
“‘M fine.” Noir mumbled.
“Dude, you nearly got stabbed,” Miles retorted. “and you basically had hypothermia. You can’t keep sayin’ you’re fine.”
Noir glared at the floor.
“I don’ see why y’all are so concerned about this.” Noir bit out.
“‘Cause we’re your friends, man.” Pav informed. “We care about you.”
“I’m an adult. I don’t need people to worry about me.” Noir growled under his breath, crossing his arms over his scarred chest.
He didn’t see the look PB and Miguel sent eachother.
“Maybe you don’t,” Hobie shrugged, “but ‘at’s not gonna stop us.”
“You don’t need to worry about me,” Noir stressed. “That’s what I’m sayin’.”
“Why don’t we need to worry about you?” Margo asked quietly.
“Be-…Because…I-…”
“Because what?” PB asked softly.
Noir stuttered for a few moments, breathing heavily, clenching and unclenching his fists. PB stepped closer to Noir, reaching for his shoulder as he spoke again,
“Because what, Noi-”
“Because I don’t matter!” Noir yelled, smacking PB’s hand away, unnoticing of how everyone flinched. PB’s face changed and darkened, incredulous confusion creeping onto it. His hand dropped.
“Why don’t you matter, Noir?” PB stared at Noir. “Why do you think that?”
“None of your business.” Noir growled. He turned as to walk up the stairs, but PB moved around him to block him, jabbing a finger in his chest.
“No, it is my business. If you, my friend, who I care about, think you don’t matter, it’s my business to find out why.” PB retorted, his finger digging deeper into Noir’s chest. The younger man glared hard at him, pushing down the growl that grew in his chest. His fists trembled at his sides.
“Jus’ leave me alone, would’ja?” He growled, trying to hide the pleading edge to his voice.
“Not until you give me an answer.” PB crossed his arms over his chest, setting his jaw and squaring his shoulders.
Noir sighed, pushing his glasses up slightly to massage at the bridge of his nose. His mouth screwed up into a sour expression, until it opened to let out a struggling sentence,
“It’s-it’s just…I dunno.” Noir sighed again. “I try…I try to keep my city, my home, safe, but it never works.” Noir drops his hand back down to his side. “I can’t stop them. The mobsters…Nazis…fat cats who don’ care about anyone but themselves.” Noir growled slightly. “What I do…it just doesn’t matter.”
PB exhaled softly, reaching out to Noir again.
“Noir, buddy…” He sighed, “you know that’s not true.”
Noir scoffed.
“Don’t I, though?”
“It’s not true, Noir.” PB said, louder and surer. “You do make a difference. Sure, you can’t stop everyone, but there are people who are still alive because of you.” PB set a hand on Noir’s shoulder. “That’s a pretty big difference to me. I’m sure the rest of the city thinks that to.”
Noir scoffed again, growling something under his breath.
“Don’t think they do.”
“Noir, of course they do.” PB emphasized. “You save people, protect them from harm, they have to realize that.” PB continued on. “They have to care about the man who protects th-“
“They don’t!” Noir burst out. PB backed up slightly as Noir whirled on him. “People may love Spider-Man in your dimension, but it’s sure as hell not like that in mine.” He growled.
“In my dimension, people don’t care about Spider-Man. Or they outright hate him.” Noir stared at the floor, arms and fists shaking.
“The coppers, reporters and journalists, even civilians hate me. They think I’m dangerous. That I’m making things harder for them, or worse. Everytime Spider-Man is talked about, it’s never good. He’s always, always, the bad guy. He’s destructive, he’s a savage, he’s a murderer.” Noir turned back to PB. “Your dimension may like you, my mine hates me.”
PB reached for Noir’s arm, attempting to console him.
“Noir, I’m sure that’s not tr-“
“It is!” Noir slapped PB’s hand out of the way. He hissed, low in his throat, as his shoulders heaved with angry breaths.
“I’ve been to your dimension, Peter.” His hand gestures to the rest of the room. “I’ve been to all of your dimensions. Your people love you. When you swoop in to save them, they run to you. They give you gifts, ask for your fuckin’ autographs, for God’s sake.” Noir slapped a hand to his forehead, then turned back to PB. He jabbed a finger at him. “You know what people in my dimension do when they see me?” He questioned, and waited for an answer.
PB shook his head sadly.
“They run. They scream, like I’m the one who’s tryin’ t’ hurt them. People have called the cops on me. People have pointed guns at me.” Noir emphasized. “I know there are people in your dimension who hate you, who want you dead. But at least not everyone wants that.”
The room was silent. PB was, unsurprisingly, the one to break it.
“Noir…” He spoke, and to Noir’s surprise (and slight horror), his voice broke slightly. “I am…so sorry. I-I never thought about what it was like for you.” He set a hand on Noir’s upper arm, looking into his concerningly surprised expression. “I’m sorry.”
Noir was silent for several moments.
“It’s-“ He spoke, cursing at how his voice shook. “It’s fine.” It’s not fine, I don’t want to go on like this. “It’s fine.” It isn’t, please help me, I can’t do this anymore. “I’m…” Noir looked to the stairs. “I’ll just go, I’ll be fine.” Noir bent to pick up his—Aunt May’s—blanket (its not yours, you selfish piece of shit.) off the floor. He began to limp toward the stairs.
Everyone was still for a few moments, and about tried to ignore how Pav and Peni’s eyes caught on his scarred chest, the way his collarbones and ribcage looked like they were about to break skin.
Jess caught his wrist. (God, her hand could wrap around his entire wrist?)
“Kid,” She began. Noir cut her off.
“Don’ call me that.”
Jess fixed him with a flat look, but obeyed his harsh request.
“Benjamin,” Noir didn’t know if that was any better. “I know you think you’ll be fine, but you need to stay here and rest. Let yourself heal a little more at least.”
Noir looked at her for a moment, a childlike confusion evident on his face.
“But ‘m fine.” He mumbled.
“Are you though?” Jess questioned earnestly. “Look at yourself, kid,” Noir opened his mouth to protest, but Jess cut himself off. “you’re skinny as a toothpick, shivering, an’ya look like you haven’t gotten sleep in a year.” Jess listed, moving her hand to rest of his shoulder. “You need rest, Ben.”
Ben. Ben. Ben. Ben. Uncle Ben.
“I’m fine.” His voice cracked loudly and obviously. Fuck.
Jess fixed him with a heart-wrenchingly understanding and loving look.
I don’t deserve this, I don’t deserve this, I don’t deserve this.
“You’re not, kid.” Jess stated. “You should come sit down.” She made to pull Noir over to the couch, but he wrenched himself away roughly. Jess looked surprised, but Noir couldn’t choke an apology out.
“I’m fine.” He croaked, his voice quiet. “I don’t need…I don’t need this.”
The room fell into silence again.
“Why won’t you let us help you, mate?” Hobie asked bluntly.
Noir shivered, his arms tightening around his skinny frame.
“I don’ need help.” He mumble-growled.
“Everyone needs help sometimes.” Peni spoke, her voice quiet yet clear. “Even Spider-People.”
Noir glanced at her, trying to soften his expression.
“This ain’t nothing I haven’t dealt with before, folks.” He shook his head. “I can handle it on my own.”
“Maybe you can,” Miguel said. “but you shouldn’t have to.”
Noir’s expression screwed up again.
“I’m an adult.” He repeated. “I shouldn’t have to…rely on other people.”
“Benjamin,” Noir flinched, no matter how hard he tried not to. “you can always rely on us.” PB stressed.
“I can deal with this on my own.” Noir repeated again, clenching his fist. “I’ve seen worse. I’ve been through worse.”
The room went silent. Noir accidentally met Miguel’s eyes, an unreadable expression on his face.
Of course, he knows.
“What do you mean, Noir?” Miguel asked quietly, a certain understanding in his voice, like he already knew what the answer was.
“What do you think?” Noir croaked, his voice shaky and raspy. “I’ve only seen the things the rest a’youse have seen.”
Miguel crossed his arms, stepping up next to Jess.
“That’s not true, Noir.” The man stated.
“How do you know?” Noir asked condescendingly, before his brain caught up with his statement.
Miguel leveled him with an unimpressed look.
“You’ve seen a lot, Noir. I know. Ok?” Miguel stepped closer to him, blocking his sight so that Noir couldn’t see anyone else. His voice dropped into a low whisper. “You can hide it from everyone else, but you can’t hide it from me.” He wrapped a hand around Noir’s elbow. “So just tell us.”
Noir scowled.
“No.” He refused petulantly.
“Why not?” Miguel asked gently.
“‘Cause it’s not your proble-“
“Noir.” Gwen stopped him. “You can’t keep this stuff locked up.” She walked closer, albeit keeping a distance. “Let us help you.”
“No.”
“Noir,” Hobie interrupted.
“No.” Noir interrupted back.
“Noir, bud-“ PB said placatingly.
“No.”
“Kid, let us help you.” Ham spoke from PB’s shoulder.
“No.”
At his severe refusal that was hiding just how panicked the situation was making him, everyone began talking at once.
“Dude, c’mon-“ Miles interjected.
“Why not?” Peni asked him, sounding distressed.
“It’ll help you, man.” Pav reassured him uselessly.
“We swear!” Margo exclaimed.
“Just tell us-“ Gwen half-pleaded.
“Why-“ Ham.
“Why-“ Miguel.
“Why-“ Jess.
“Why-“ Hobie.
“Why won’t you let us help you?” PB asked, his voice carrying over everyone else’s.
“Because I’ve been through worse!” Noir nearly screamed. He heaved, trying to catch his breath but only succeeding in making himself lightheaded. Noir’s head suddenly snapped up to PB, his glasses reflecting light and his eyes nearly feral.
“You think I haven’t been through this before?!” Noir questioned, his voice pitching higher in anger. “You think I haven’t dealt with worse before?!” Noir flipped around, hands coming up to massage his temples.
“My entire life has only been one thing.” Noir stressed, his voice weary and reedy. “I was 6 when my parents died, and I never even found out how.” Noir clenched his fists. “I was 15 when I found my Uncle Ben dead.” Noir turned back to PB. “I found him ripped apart.” Noir poked a finger at PB, ignoring the man’s horrified expression. “I though it was dogs. I though only an animal could do whatever was done to him.” Noir cut himself off, laughing almost hysterically. “No! No, it wasn’t dogs! It was Vulture! He ate him alive!” Noir yelled. He panted for a few moments, before dropping his hands back down again and continuing.
“I got angry. I dedicated a year of my life to trying to find him, Vulture, and bring him to justice.” Noir paused. “And it never worked. So I focused on other things, other people.” Noir looked to PB, his eyes dark and glassy.
“I took a case, a case meant for my mentor. I went to the place, found Goblin’s men unloading antiques, some old statues.” Noir paused, clenching and unclenching his fist. “I went to stop them, and before I could even get to the ground, a statue broke open. Thousands, thousands,” Noir stressed, “of spiders crawled out of it.” Noir squeezed his eyes shut. “One bit me, and I passed out. I woke up in…blackness.” Noir’s voice became quieter. “This…thing…crawled out of the darkness. I can’t even describe what it looked like, only that it wasn’t human. She—it asked me why I was scared, that it’s bite only brings death to those of evil intent. It said it would “bestow on me a greater torment.”” Noir continued, hands coming up to form air quotes.
“The curse of power.” Miguel finished. Noir nodded.
“I guess I was lucky,” Noir chuckled humorlessly, “the other guys were eaten alive.” Noir sighed. “I woke up in my apartment later, and discovered these.” Noir lifted his wrists up, showing the group the small holes in his wrists. “I don’t use web generators, I make my own.” Noir explained. He just hoped that they didn’t notice the horizontal scars lining his wrists.
“I spent a couple weeks getting a hold on…whatever you wanna call this.” Noir said, gesturing to his wrists. “But I was still angry. I went to find Green Goblin, but all I found was my mentor, Ben Urich.” Noir’s fists began to shake. “He-he was…blackmailing Green Goblin. God, he was practically working with him, forcing him to fuel his drug addiction.” Noir massaged the bridge of his nose. “So I left.” Noir looked to PB again. “That’s when I became Spider-Man.”
“I went back. I went to…to tell B-Ben—convince him—that…that this wasn’t right.” Noir paused, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I found him dead.” Noir looked at the floor, hunching in on himself. “I got angry again, so I went and I stopped Osbourne. And you wanna know how the reporters labeled me?” Noir turned to PB, then to Miguel.
“They called me a criminal. A monster. I didn’t even kill Norman. But that didn’t matter.” Noir growled. “I went to meet Mr. Jameson, the head editor of the Bugle. We weren’t…friends…not by a long shot, but it’s not like he hated me.” Noir explained quietly. “I went to his office, and found who I thought was Mr. Jameson, dead.”
“It wasn’t J, it was the Chameleon. I found out that Osbourne had taken J, and I tried to track down his location.” Noir swallowed. “I didn’t find him, I only found Vulture. I-I…I didn’t know what else to do, so I-…” Noir choked up.
“I killed him.” He ignored Gwen’s soft gasp. “He was gonna kill my Aunt May, so I stopped him…I didn’t mean to kill him.” Noir whispered. “My aunt saw, and-and she…” Noir wiped away a falling tear. “she said that killing people made me less human. She-she disowned me.”
PB exhaled softly. “Noir, bud-“
“It’s fine.” Noir said. He sniffled slightly, before continuing. “I found Osbourne’s…torture house a little bit later. He was holding J and an acquaintance of mine there. I learned…I learned that Osbourne was already planning to kill Urich, but Chameleon got to him first.” Noir sighed slightly. “I was able to save J, but the other one practically saved herself.” Noir chuckled again. “I had the chance to kill Osbourne, but I didn’t take it. I met you guys a little bit after that.”
“A couple months after I got back, I learned that my…friend, Robbie, and a bunch of other had been abducted by Doc Ock.” Noir’s fists clenched. “He…he was…experimenting on them. I-I tried to save Robbie, but—but I was too late.” Noir sniffled.
“But I couldn’t focus on that.” Noir said flatly. “There was a new mob boss, Crime Master.” Noir laughed quietly. “Creative guy, huh?” He continued. “He was the one taking all the people, Ock was just the “doctor”. I went to stop him, before I f-found Robbie. I ran into Sandman, who was working as his assistant.” Noir smiled flatly. “Guy nearly killed me.”
“I was saved by a guy named de Wolfe, and I moved on to Crime Master. He-he told me he killed my mentor’s partner, Felicia. Ock killed him, and didn’t make it quick. I tried to kill Ock, but Wolfe stopped me.” Noir wrung his hands together. “He told me Felicia wasn’t dead, so I went to find her. When-when I did…she told me she never wanted to see me again.” Noir finished softly. “I can’t blame her, it was my fault that Crime Master even found her.”
Noir sighed heavily, hiding the fact that he was wiping at his cheeks.
“And a little after that, I met you guys again.”
Everyone was silent. Noir spoke again.
“Well, I told you guys.” He said flatly. “That’s what you wanted.” He turned back around, heading for the stairs. “I’m gonna get going now.”
Noir had one foot on the stairs, before something tight and warm wrapped around his wrist, pulled him sharply back down, and tugged him into something warm and solid.
Noir immediately began fighting.
“Let me go!” He shrieked, although his voice was too raw and tired to really have any volume. “Goddammit! Let me GO!”
He pushed himself away, wrenching his arms out of the gentle grip.
The arms only pulled him back in.
Their grip was stronger, firmer this time, so that when Noir tried to push himself away, he met a strong force at his back that kept him from moving. When pushing didn’t succeed, he resorted to hitting. He punched the chest of whoever was holding him strongly, scratching and kicking as much as he could to try and get away.
The person only shifted their hold so that they were binding Noir’s arms to his side, and pulled him back into their chest. Noir still struggled, writhing and jerking away, all while begging please, please, please let me go, let me go, please, no, please, let me go!
The person holding Noir wrapped an arm around his waist, and an arm around his shoulders, pushing his head into the crook of their neck. Noir still struggled, even in his bonded position, until a voice reached his ears.
“It’s ok, kid. It’s ok, it’s me.” PB. “You’re safe, it’s ok. I’ve got you. We’re here, we’re all here for you.” The older man murmured.
Noir broke.
A deep, wracking sob ripped its way out of his chest. PB released Noir’s arms, allowing him to grip onto his robe like it was a lifeline. The younger man’s shoulders shook with sobs and cries, and his breath rattled in his chest. Tears streamed out of his eyes and stained PB’s robe as he pushed his head further into the man’s neck, his shoulder muffling Noir’s cries.
The younger man flinched as he felt another pair of arms wrap around his ribs, but softened slightly when he felt Jess’ hair press against his neck.
“It’s gonna be ok, kid.” The woman whispers.
He can feel someone’s chest—firm and muscular press against his side, next to Jess, effectively boxing him in on three sides.
“Está bien niño, estás bien.” Miguel murmurs to him.
Someone shorter worms their way in between PB and Jess, and wraps their arms around Noir’s hips. Noir can feel Peni’s sweater against his waist. Someone rests their head on PB’s shoulder, next to his, and their hair feels suspiciously like Miles’. Someone else floats up—Ham—and wraps their arms around the top of Noir’s head. He can feel Gwen’s hands, clad in fingerless gloves, wrap around his forearm, Margo’s hands and forehead resting on his opposite side. He can feel Hobie grab one of his hands, rubbing his thumb over his bruised and scarred knuckles. Pav grabs his other hand, tracing patterns over the flat expanse of his palm.
Noir cries. And cries. And cries. He cries until no tears can possibly come out, he cries until his voice shorts out, he cries until he physically can’t anymore.
PB held him throughout it all, cradling the back of his neck, and burying his nose in the younger man’s hair. Jess ran her fingers, feather-light, over Noir’s ribs, while Miguel rubbed circles on his lower back.
As Noir’s tears slowed slightly, and his cries quieted down to soft whimpers and sniffles, PB felt his knees begin to quiver, his arms and shoulders shaking from exertion.
“C’mon, kid,” PB murmured to the boy. “I can feel you shaking. How ‘bout you go back upstairs and lay down again?”
Noir whimpered under his breath, sniffling against PB’s shoulder. He nodded stiffly.
“C’mon, bud,” PB ran a hand through Noir’s hair, the boy still leaning heavily on his chest. “let’s go upstairs.”
As PB pulled away, Noir stumbled slightly. PB’s arms shot out immediately, but Miguel simply wrapped his arms around the boy’s thin waist, flipped him around, and scooped him up.
Noir whined and sniffled again, batting at Miguel’s chest.
“L’mme down, pl’s.” Noir slurred, squirming in Miguel’s arms. “I c’n walk fine.”
Miguel smiled gently, hiking Noir up in his arms slightly as he strode over to the stairs.
“I’m sure you can, mijo.” Miguel murmured, walking up the stairs. He made sure he was far enough away from everyone else before he spoke again. “But we want to help you.” Miguel glanced down at Noir, taking in his puffy eyes, his dusky grey nose and cheeks, his previously pure white sclera now an irritated stormy grey. “So let us.” Miguel murmured to Noir.
The boy huffed, the sound almost petulant, but snuggled into Miguel’s chest nonetheless.
Miguel nudged Noir’s current room door open, twisting as he walked into the doorway so as to not smack Noir’s head on the doorjamb. One-handed, he tugged the blankets of the bed down fully, his free arm wrapping around Noir’s lower back and upper thigh, keeping him suspended.
As gently as possible, Miguel set Noir down. The boy whined softly as he touched the bed, grappling onto Miguel’s arm like a teddy bear. Miguel smiled softly, plucking Noir’s glasses off his face, setting them on the nightstand.
The door creaked softly. Miles’ doe eyes, large and pleading, poked through.
“Can we stay with him?” Miles asked softly, padding into the room. His hands came up into a pleading position. “Please?”
Miguel chuckled, one hand brushing back a lock of hair from Noir’s face.
“If you can fit,” He answered. “and if he’s ok with it.” Miguel continued, gesticulating to Noir. “And if you don’t irritate his injuries.”
“We won’t!” Peni whisper-yelled, skittering into the room. “We promise!” She finished as he landed knee-first on the bed, scurrying over to Noir’s dozing form. She tapped the boy lightly on the shoulder, apologizing as he jolted.
“Can we stay with you?” She asked.
“Wha?” Noir asked blearily.
“Can we stay with you?” Miles repeated for Peni. They cast a look at eachother.
“Pleaseeeeeeeeee?” They both begged.
Noir huffed amusedly, his smile blurry and eyes fuzzy with sleepiness.
“You s’re?” Noir asked quietly.
“Yes!” Both kids assented.
Peni wiggled her way—gently as she could—onto to Noir’s chest, her head planted firmly under his chin, arms wrapping around his upper ribs. Miles stuck himself to Noir’s side, nose pressed into his right side, arm draped over Peni.
“I’m assuming the others are coming?” Miguel asked, a soft, gentle smile on his face, warm like the sun.
Miles nodded sleepily. Almost on cue, the door creaked open again, Pav’s face peeking through. His questioning expression soon turned nearly triumphant, his fist pumping as he said,
“Yes!” He jogged over to the bed, “pile-on on Noir!”
“I r’snt th’t.” Noir slurred, eliciting laughs from everyone on the bed. Pav squeezed into the bed next to Miles. He dwarfed the other boy, settling his head on Noir’s shoulder, smiling against his grey skin.
The door creaked again, Margo strolling in, already in the know due to Pav rushing in. She didn’t say anything, just squeezed in next to Pav, her face pressed to his shoulder, and her arm slung over his hip and Miles’ ribs, landing on Noir’s waist.
She was tailed by Gwen and Hobie, the latter leaning on the doorframe as Gwen walked around to the other side of the bed.
“Fin’lly givin’ in, eh, mate?” Hobie asked jokingly, masking fond concern.
“Mmph.” Noir replied intelligently.
Hobie laughed silently, walking around the bed where Gwen has already shimmied under the covers, wedging herself against Noir’s side. She positioned her head so that she was breathing down Peni’s neck, her arm thrown over the girl’s waist and Noir’s ribs.
Hobie squeezed in behind her, wrapping around her back, his knees bumping with Noir’s shins, his hair brushing against the side of his neck. He reached one arm up so that it arched over Noir’s head, the other falling over Gwen and Peni.
Miguel laughed fondly from his place by the window, before turning and drawing the curtains closed. He walked silently over to the other side of the bed, where he met a previously unnoticed Jess, PB, and Ham.
“They gonna be ok?” PB asked, trying to be quiet.
“We will if you let us sleep.” Gwen mumbled.
Jess laughed.
“Sounds like a plan.” She answered. “We’ll be downstairs if any of you need anything.”
The kids nodded.
PB leaned over, pressing a kiss to Margo’s cheek, Pav’s temple, Miles’ forehead, and the back of Peni’s head. He reached over, patting Hobie’s shoulder and rubbing Gwen’s arm. Miguel leaned over, pressing a kiss to Hobie’s temple and Gwen’s cheek.
PB brushed a finger over Noir’s forehead, the boy’s eyes blinking open blearily. He squinted up at PB, who smiled down at him gently.
“Night, kid.” PB murmured, leaning down and pressing a kiss to Noir’s forehead. “Sleep well, ok?” PB nodded.
“‘Kay.” Noir nodded back. “Th’nk you, B.” He mumbled.
PB smiled.
“Your welcome, Benj.”
Ham leaned down from where he sat on PB’s shoulder, patting Noir’s head.
“Nighty-night, kiddo.”
PB stood back up, Miguel taking his place and pressing another kiss to the boys forehead.
“Buenas noches, hijo.” He murmured.
Jess leaned down last, pressing a kiss to his temple, running a hand through his hair.
The four adults walked quietly over to the door, casting a look back at the tanglewood of kids on the bed.
“Goodnight, kids.” PB whispered, “Sleep well.”
“Night.”
“G’night.”
“Night-night.”
“N’ght.” Came the chorus, and the door shut, effectively plunging the room into darkness.
It was silent, except for 7 sets of breathing, for several moments.
A single deep purr interrupted the stillness.
“S’rry.” Noir mumbled. “St’rted doin’ that a bit ago. Can’ r’lly stop now.”
“‘S ok.” Pav answered quietly, a laugh coloring his voice. “Shows your comfortable.”
Noir hummed in response, before speaking quietly again.
“Th-thank you all,” He said quietly. “for…for staying with me. I-I…um,” Noir stuttered. “I appreciate it.”
Everyone ignored the unspoken words of I feel like I don’t deserve this, why are you doing this, why don’t you think I’m a monster?
“You’re welcome.” Gwen answered softly. “Love ya, Benj.” She mumbled sleepily, burying her nose into Peni’s hair.
“Love you, N.” Margo whispered.
“Bhaee tumase pyaar hai, bhaiya.” Pav murmured, feet brushing Noir’s shins.
“Love you, hermano.” Miles mumbled, hand fumbling to grab Noir’s opposite arm.
“Aishiteimasu, Oniisan.” Peni said, voice slightly muffled by Noir’s neck.
“Love ya, mate.” Hobie finished.
Noir sniffled audibly, arms tightening around Miles and Gwen slightly.
“I-“ His voice quivered. “Ikh hob aykh aoykh lib.”
He felt arms tighten around him, someones thumb rubbing his hipbone, a kiss being pressed to his side.
He sniffled again, chest stuttering slightly, through Peni didn’t seem to mind. Hobie leaned over,
“Y’alright, mate?” He asked quietly.
Noir nodded into the darkness.
“Ye-yeah.” He answered wetly. “Yeah, I’m good.”