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It was supposed to be a normal day.
Her father was working at the hospital, she had the whole day for herself. She wanted to catch up on her studies since between band practices and patrols, she had no time and her grades were dropping.
It was cold outside, cloudy, and there were not many people on the streets. She liked blending out with her big jacket — which wasn't really hers — not having people perceive or pay attention to her presence. It was one of only times she liked feeling like a ghost.
She got to the grocery store and waved to the old man who worked there ever since she was eight. He waved back, unamused. Something about his constant annoyance towards the world and disregard towards her made her comfortable around him.
She grabbed some grapes, rice, carrots. She was trying to eat healthy for once in her life. Maybe it was the influence of her boyfriend's mother and the way she kept telling her she would develop gastritis with all the junk food she ate and then have her stomach close. She wasn't sure that was a possibility but even though she lived without her mother most of her life, she knew mother's knew things no one else in the world did.
It was a lazy, slow, pleasant day for her until that stupid jazz song started playing.
She liked jazz music, she liked most genres of music despite people assuming she was one of those music snobs who could only stick to what her band played. Growing up with the Parkers as neighbors, she had listened to jazz most of her life.
But that was Peter's song. The one he sang when distracted, when they were studying, laying in opposite sides of the room. The one the Parkers played every Christmas. The one they didn't anymore. The one he said would play at his graduation ceremony — which he would never live enough to have.
She dropped everything in her hand, the world slowing down. It wasn't supposed to be a good day for her in a world where Peter was dead. In a world where she failed him by thinking beating up his bullies were enough. In a world where she killed him, pushed his body back with enough force for a wall of concrete to fall on his body. He died in pain, he died wanting to be like her. And here she was, living a good life he never got to have.
"Is everything okay?" The old man who never regarded her asked, looking at the stuff she dropped on the ground.
Her face grew hot. There were eyes on her. Her hands were shaking, a cold feeling in her stomach. She wanted to throw up but she didn't even eat anything.
"Why don't you sit down?" The man grabbed her elbow and she winced, jumping away from him. "Sorry, I just wanted to help you. Do you want me to call Officer Stacy?"
He's not a cop anymore. I ruined his life.
When she's Spider-Woman, she's good. She can do good. She can protect people and be useful.
When she is Gwen Stacy, she's paralyzed in a grocery store, words stuck in her throat while Peter's favorite song plays on the speakers.
But she killed Peter while being Spider-Woman. Her dad resigned because of Spider-Woman. She served the spider society and let Miles down as Spider-Woman. She couldn't separate the two but the problem wasn't in the mask, the problem would always be Gwen Stacy.
"Maybe we should call someone to help her." Gwen looked up to a lady with an worried expression, holding a toddler in her arms. She was a mother feeling empathetic to another kid, all alone trembling in a grocery store.
Except this child was a murderer. If only she knew she would never be this close.
"I will call your dad." The old man said, trying to soothe her.
"No." She finally let out, and her voice sounded like a growl. Something animalistic, a buried sound. "No, no."
"You need help, you're not even moving, Gwendy."
She grabbed the phone in her purse, shaking her head at the people gathered around her. She stared at her father's number, and her heartbeat was increasing by the second. He was working, he was busy. She ruined his life already. She couldn't take him out of work. If she went to an hospital they would call him too.
She was getting lightheaded. She pretended to call him, so people would leave her alone. The old man and the mother stayed by her side.
"Not answering." She was holding the cellphone with two hands because they were shaking too much. She got closer to a wall and slided to the floor, hugging her knees and pretending to dial his number again.
"Don't you have anyone else to call? Do you want me to take you to the hospital?" The woman asked, and her kindness was making her sick. She wanted to scream at her to live. She was not her problem.
"No, thank you." She stared at her contacts list, going over the names again and again. She couldn't call her father. The Parkers would freak out. She didn't want anyone else to see reduced to this. Shaking life a leaf, crouched on the dirty floor.
"We need to do something, your lips are white. You look like you're going to pass out."
Their rushing tones were making her more anxious. She kept scrolling, reading the same names over and over. Breathing was a conscious choice, she felt her whole chest move to try to keep air in her lungs. She was pinching her arm as if that would make her body feel more alive.
Calling Miles ♡ ...
Her eyes widened and she immediately tapped her screen to end the call. She was so desperate she could only press the right button once he picked up for a second.
"Did you manage to call someone?"
She hid her face in her legs, hugging her knees. Her phone was vibrating in her lap. The song stopped playing but she was hearing it still in her head. She was trying to control her breathing which was harder with her face buried on her thighs.
People were talking to her but the sound was muffled. There was a sharp pain on her temples; and she tried to hold on to that because everything else felt distant and fake. She was out of her body, out of reality. She was made of a mass that didn't fit with gravity. She was floating, or so she thought, because her body was moving up. She could feel hands on her body but it was like it wasn't really touching her. Her eyes were closed still.
She was been carried away, she was only thinking of her purse and if it stayed in the store. Her hair was flying everywhere. When she opened her eyes, she was over the city buildings. She was wrapped on something. Someone.
"Miles?"
"Hi, Gwen." He answered, and he was carrying her while swinging, so she couldn't really see his face at the moment. Her sensory senses were coming back and she could finally feel the weight of her own body. Her brain was working again and she felt her face up in flames.
He was in his suit. He came to her universe and carried her limp body out of that store. He saw her like a weak abandoned puppy because she accidentally called him and gave him a scare.
She wanted him to drop her.
They suddenly stopped, she was standing up but leaning on him. He took off his mask with one hand while another stayed at her waist.
"What's wrong, baby?" His eyes were so big and beautiful right there that she broke down in a sob. He was so beautiful and so, so good. "No, Gwen, don't cry. Talk to me, what happened?"
His hands were holding her face and she had no strength to push him away or hide. Her face was full of tears, her lips were bleeding because she thinks she bit them too hard, snot and wet sweat all over her face. How could he even stare at her. She wasn't good or beautiful or even useful.
"I can't do this." She cried.
"Do what?" He had tissues with him, and he was wiping her face like he was a caregiver and she was the sick girl he had to take care of.
"I'm not good."
"You're good." He threw the tissue away, running his hands through her hair gently. Taking the loose strands out of her face, pushing it behind her ears.
"I'm not, I'm not, Miles." She shook her head, and he grabbed her by the shoulders bringing her to him. She melted agaisnt his embrace, and he kneeled down, taking her with him so they were both cuddling on a random terrace.
"You are. My mom taught me not to lie. You're so good." His hands were under her shirt, drawing circles on her back. It was making her feel sleepy. She thinks she lived too much for the whole day, her panic taking away all her energy. A part of her wanted to feel a punishment for her incompetence, her shame and all the mistakes she made from the womb until now. But another part of her had heavy eyelids and a warm hand on her back.
When she woke up again, she was laying on top of him, but there was no wind. Everything was dark and warm. She opened her eyes to stare to her bedroom wall. The lights were off except for her lampshade. She propped herself up, her body cracking. Miles was drawing while she slept on him.
"Good morning." He had his eyes on the sketchbook.
"Morning?"
"No, I'm kidding, it's like 6pm." He looked at her then, and he looked like he slept at some point too.
"How did you know where I was?" She asked suddenly, remember how fast he got to her.
"Spider-Sense, I guess. As soon as I came here I knew where to find you."
"I'm sorry." She was now sitting up on his legs.
"For what?"
"Making you come here. I wasn't injured or anything, I just freaked out out of nowhere because of a song Peter used to like. It was really stupid, I'm sorry." She sighed.
"If it made you have a panic attack it wasn't stupid." She froze at the word, hating how he could read the situation better than she was, even though it happened to her. "It's okay to need help sometimes. We're not shielded to those things just because we're superheroes."
"Do you...Do you ever feel like that?" The possibility made her want to cry again.
"Yes. But I talk to my mom and dad. Or my friends. Or to you." He kissed her nose. "So it never gets too bad, I think. Therapy helps a lot." He raised an eyebrow at her, and she bit her lips again. They've talked about it but she avoid looking for it, afraid of what it meant to open up about her whole life to a stranger.
He bought his fingers to her lips, gently releasing them from her teeth. "Stop that, you will hurt herself."
She nodded, with her thoughts all over the place. She needed help if she wanted to get better. But it was so hard to ask for it, look for it. She felt so ashamed of not having it all figured out. It felt like she should have. Like she owned this to others. To Peter, most of all.
But if she had called Miles before it got really bad, he wouldn't be as worried. Things would be easier. The longer she refused help the more she needed. And she knew Miles would come to her either way, because that's who he was. The boy who loved her even after she showed everything bad she could be or do.
"What's on your mind?" He was still on his suit, and she wondered if he was busy back in his home dimension and came running dropping out of a fight. Something about this urgency he felt to know she was safe made her whole body ache.
She kissed him then, arms encircling his neck, bringing him closer to her. He responded quickly, grabbing her waist, pressing his whole body to hers. Her nails pressed slightly agaisnt his nape and she smiled at the goosebumps on his skin. She pulled away with her forehead pressed on his; "Thank you for coming for me. I love you, you know."
"I don't actually." He teased. "Tell me again."
She rolled her eyes a little, kissing him once more. "I love you, Miles Morales."
"Promise?"
"I love you, I will love you forever." She pressed a kiss to his cheek, head falling on his shoulder. A bittersweet feeling overcame her, the expecting of something back coming their way because that's how it always went for her. She held him tighter.
She promised him even before this that she would never abandoned him again. But she couldn't be a burden, she couldn't slip away from life and leave him to take care of her. They could take care of each other but she need to be present, she need to fight for herself.
"Can you help me look up for a doctor? To help me?" And if you knew Gwen Stacy, asking for help to someone she loved beyond comprehension was the hardest thing she ever had to do.
"Of course." He smiled. And if you knew Miles Morales, helping someone he loved more than he could put into words was the easiest thing he ever did.