Chapter Text
The bar smelled like burnt sugar, sweat, and old paint. It wasn't the crappiest they had ever been to, but it wasn't the best either.
It was the kind of place where the floor stuck to your boots just a little, like it was trying to remember everyone who’d ever danced there. Neon lights flickered above the counter, half-dead, and the stage was nothing more than splintered wood and stubbornness. Stains of previous band’s blood, seat and tears permanently marking the wood Megan skiendiel now stood on.
She tightened her grip on her guitar strap, which had small orbs with a star in the middle. Their band logo claims her and her precious baby as their own.
She could hear the crowd’s laughter, glasses clinking, someone shouting from the back—but it all dulled into background static. What mattered was the hum of amps, the soft click of Yoonchae’s drumsticks knocking together, the weight of the moment about to break open. The feeling of anticipation slowly building in her chest like dynamite rumbling as the wisp begins to burn out.
Sophia adjusted her mic stand, fingers tapping anxiously against her keyboard, her long nails painted a cateye grey.
Manon rolled her shoulders like she always did before a set, cracked her shoulders. Her many piercings glistened under the bright light of the stage.
Yoonchae exhaled slowly, steady and calm behind the drum kit, exceeding cool drummer energy. You could hear people screaming her name from all the way in the back of the bar.
And Dani—leaning her own guitar against her leg—flashed Megan a quick, crooked grin.
“You ready, rockstar?” she murmured, taking her space beside Megan, the two were like clones with their respective guitars in hand. Hers a bright crimson red and Means a hot pink with navy accents.
Megan scoffed. “You’re the one who won’t shut up about this song.”
Dani’s smile softened. “Because it’s so goddamn fire.”
Lara stepped up to the mic. Their queue to shut the fuck up, and rock the fuck out. At rehearsals this is all they played for weeks, thanks to Dani. Megan had written this about Lara’s ex boyfriend, and an amalgamation of things the members had gone through lately. Megan couldn't help but take a deep breath in, feel the rapid chills that ran down her arms as Lara screamed,
“Don’t blink,” voice rough but smooth, “or you’ll miss it.”
A few whistles cut through the bar. All of sudden everything felt like before falling off a clif without a parachute.
The lights dimmed. The faces of her fellow bandmates disappear.
Not a second later Yoonchae was counting them in.
One.
Two.
Three.
She almost missed her queue, Megan’s guitar coming in low and dragging. Not perfect, oh not at all. But raw and real, as if you could hear every callous on her fingers. Sophia layered the keys underneath, soft and atmospheric, while Manon’s bass hit slow and steady in Megan’s chest. Her sound became one with theirs like they lived in each other's heart, following their heartbeat as one.
Then Lara’s voice cracked through the room:
“I cut open my leg, In some adrenaline jump over the gate”
The bar shifted. You could feel it in the air, Lara's voice hypnotizing every single person in the room.
Conversations died. Heads turned. People leaned forward.
Dani stepped closer to Megan, her fingers finding the right rhythm on her guitar, harmonizing as Lara sang:
He says my music's lame
He sits and stares at himself playing guitar all day
And calls that shit art”
Megan didn’t look out at the crowd. Too busy mastering her chords, making sure she never missed a beat, in this melodic dance of theirs. Until she lets herself be dragged out, feel it out more than force it. Her head swivelled towards Dani approaching the mic they had in front of them. Dani’s voice slid in beside Lara’s:
I think I'm better than you
I think I'm better
I think I'm better
I think I'm better
And you probably think that I'm a pessimist
Dani was watching her, daring her to come into their chorus; they all found themselves in front of their mics singing the last few lines of the song. Yoonchae with the low melody matching her rhythmic hits on her drums, Sophia hitting the falsettos with Lara. While Dani screamed the lyrics into the mc inches apart.
Their shoulders brushed as they played in sync. Guitar and guitar. String and string. Dani leaning just slightly, like gravity meant something different near Megan.
Megan’s fingers hesitated. Just for a beat. Dani's breath hot on her face,
But she caught herself.
The crowd didn’t notice. They were too busy losing themselves. Megan and Dani ended off the song with a long drawn guitar duet with the quiet beat of the drums and bass playing simple notes. Their backs turned to each other leaning on each other for support, fingers flying through their strings, pure chemistry as they complemented every strum perfectly. Maybe this is why this was Dani’s favourite song on their set. Nonetheless, this was definitely why it was Megan’s.
Someone near the bar whistled.
A girl near the stage cheered.
Sophia backed them with harmonies, her voice soft and floating over the noise.
And for a second, Megan forgot. Forgot about her shift tomorrow at 9 am.
Forgot about the city.
Forgot about rooftops and sirens.
Forgot about bruises she hadn’t checked yet.
She just let herself feel it—the sweat, the vibration of the amp under her feet, the way Dani’s presence made the music feel almost dangerous.
Like a secret already forming.
When the last note rang out, it echoed. Hang there. I was trembling. Like Megan's breathing, her eyes drawing out to the crowd that had grown since the start of the song. They screamed, and chanted their name, and some who had no idea who they were screamed even louder. Tasting the name, Katseye, on their tongue.
Whistles. Applause. Someone shouting “holy shit.”
Megan lowered her guitar slowly, her heartbeat still tangled in the strings.
I love my life, she thought.
I love my band. They’re my family.
She swallowed, and found her throat as coarse as sandpaper. Reaching for her water bottle her chest ached, like all the memory of her burden paging her from ever feeling joyful. Her mind had to ruin it,
Except, I lie to them everyday.
A lie that cursed itself into her skin, clung to every ounce of her being.
One that wasn’t just a mask or a suit. One that was also the permanent eye bags she had developed since it all began. No one even asked her about them anymore, they were part of her.
Dani nudged her lightly with her shoulder.
“Are you alive over there or did the amp kill you?”
Megan smirked, breathless. “I survived your guitar playing. I think I’ll be fine.”
Dani rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered longer than it should have. It was always this game with dani, ever since they had met on their first rehearsal all together. Megan had come prepared to be the only guitarist, until Daniela showed up 5 minutes late. Sophia had been the one to bring them all together through an advertisement Megan had seen outside of the Best Buy she worked at. The moment Dani had walked in, the air became static, tension was in between them from the moment they’d met.
“What?” They both exclaimed when Sophia had explained they’d have two guitarists in this new band.
She’d been right as she usually is, all of the best rock bands had two guitarists. For the first two months of playing together Dani and Megan would play a game of cat and mouse, Dani's guitar eating and chasing away means, battling for dominance. Until Megan had learnt how to chase back.
-
By the time their last song bled out into the air, the bar felt warmer.
Not just from the heat of bodies pressed together, or the lights burning too low above them — but from the noise lingering. The kind of applause that didn’t just fade. Whistles still echoing off the walls. Someone yelled “holy shit!” again, like they couldn’t help themselves.
Sweat ran down Megan’s spine, sticking her tight tank top to her skin. Her chest was still moving like she’d run a mile, as if she was just entering runners high from the applause.
Onstage, everything looked chaotic — cables snaking everywhere, the floor scuffed, Sophia’s tablet lit up half-broken on her keyboard stand — but to them, it was home.
Megan ran a hand through her pink-streaked bangs, pushing them off her face.
Her outfit clung to her now: baggy black cargo pants hanging low on her hips, chain glinting at the side, boots scuffed from too many nights like this. The tank top she wore was plain — faded grey — but it stuck to her in a way she pretended not to notice, her muscular arms flexing against her guitar.
Dani stood to her left, her own guitar hanging loose against her hip. Baggy jeans, ripped at the knees. Street-style sneakers that had probably once been white. A cropped, sleeveless top clinging to her shoulder. Curly black hair stuck to her forehead, sweat making it look darker, wilder, with those sharp eyes you could never escape.
She looked like she belonged on that stage more than the stage itself.
Yoonchae sat behind her drums like she’d been born welded to them. Oversized hoodie, sleeves pushed up. Baggy pants somehow baggier than Megan’s. Her dark hair swinging with the motion of her sticks hitting the drums hard.
Manon leaned casually on her bass like she didn’t just carry half the band’s rhythm in her arms. A crop top with a leather jacket hanging off one shoulder, rings glinting on her fingers. Effortlessly aesthetic. Like a Pinterest board that learned how to swear, and play the bass like she was playing with heartstrings.
And Sophia…
Sophia looked like someone who could run a country and not a rock girl band. Loose button-down. High-waisted pants. Hair tied back messily. Sweat dripped down her temple but not a single ounce of stress on her face, she was in her element from the start, the moment they set up earlier.
The leader.
The reason their chaos still functioned. The last track passed by as fast as the night had begun Megan was too busy admiring her bandmates to notice.
Sophia leaned into her mic, grinning.
“Alright,” she laughed, breathless, “if you’re still alive after that, make some damn noise.”
The crowd roared again.
Lara, never missing an opportunity, leaned in. “If you’re not alive, please haunt us in the merch corner.”
Megan smiled without realizing she was doing it. Dani leaned closer, catching it immediately.
“What? Are you proud of yourself?” she murmured.
Megan rolled her eyes. “You nearly fell over the bridge.”
“I was vibing.”
“You kicked my pedal.”
“You deserved it.”
She nudged Megan with her hip, not hard — just enough to be annoying.
Megan hated how easily her body leaned toward her instead of stepping away.
Across the stage, Manon crossed her arms. “Yeah but like… we absolutely ate that.”
Sophia nodded. “We did. And no one blew out an amp this time.”
Yoonchae smirked. “Yet.”
Lara wiped sweat off her jaw. “I think I hit a note tonight that scared God.”
“And our neighbors,” Sophia added.
Megan laughed quietly.
They stood there a moment longer — hair damp, clothes clinging, breathing syncing down without meaning to — like the aftermath of a storm only they could understand.
And Megan felt it again.
That stupid, warm, dangerous thought. Of feeling comfortable around these girls who could never stop nagging and loving her.
She looked around and took everything in, the sound of the girls laughing and deep exasperated breathing. It made her feel like quitting everything other than this, her stupid part time job at best buy, the nagging feeling behind her eyes that claimed her being every time she stayed up at night for the greater good. She wouldn't trade this for the world, which was ridiculous, because they were loud. Annoying. Always arguing.
Sophia with her control freak tendencies.
Lara who seemed to never shut up.
Yoonchae who acted like she didn’t care when she was the sassiest of them all.
Manon and her stupid laser eyes that could sense Megan's deepest thoughts from a mile away.
And Dani…
Megan didn’t let her mind finish that one.
They were an extension of her. There was a part of Megan that did not exist without them, the confident side of her, the one that could go up on stage and pour her little heart out in the songs she'd write.
The thought hurt if she held onto it too long.
Because families weren’t supposed to have secrets like hers, a life where there was blood covering every inch of her vision no matter how hard she tried to wipe it away.
Dani rested her head briefly against Megan’s shoulder, pretending it was just exhaustion, drawing Mgean out of her head.
“You alright?” she muttered. “You’re quieter than usual.”
“I’m always quiet.”
“Yeah, but this is like… sinister quiet.”
Megan scoffed. “Your brain is weird.”
“Your face is weird,” Dani shot back, but her voice lost its bite halfway through. Pulling her head away and following the girls towards the back of the stage to put their instruments away.
Sophia clapped once, sharp.
“Okay, rockstars, before you melt into the stage, go cool down,” she said. “The night may be over for Katseye, but it has only started for us!”
Megan slipped her guitar strap off, carefully setting her baby back into its case like it could feel the tenderness. Her fingers stung faintly — strings biting deeper than usual. She brought her hands up to inspect the increasingly larger calluses forming on her hands. From climbing things, but also playing the guitar like her life depended on it.
Everything stopped for a second as she noticed the bruises that covered her knuckles, a deep red that she realized ached more than she had been aware of before. The deep red reminded her of the flush on Yoonchae's cheeks, after a show, or when Megan complimented her. Her mind flashed to the memory of the feeling of a jaw breaking underneath them.
Didn’t like the dull ache climbing under her ribs either. Not from the bruises that marked her skin still. She tried to rub the colouring away, when it ultimately didn't work she shoved her hands in her jeans. Could her healing factor kick in any sooner?
Tonight she tried to ignore the constant reminder of the burden that she carried on her shoulders.
“Hey,” she said suddenly, forcing casualness into her voice. “I’m gonna grab us drinks before the line kills us.” She needed a moment alone, before she got lost in the liquor and let it carry her far far away from the places her mind loved wandering towards.
Manon perked up. “I want whatever makes you less awkward.”
“I don’t think the bar carries that.” she giggled, her whisker dimples shining in the stage lights.
“Tragic.”
Dani tilted her head. “Get me something strong.”
Sophia gave her a look. “No.”
Dani smirked. “I wasn’t asking permission.” She stuck out her tongue towards Sophia, which triggered her to start swearing at Dani, grabbing her into a choke hold.
Megan’s lips twitched, and before she could get caught in their play fighting she dove into the crowd. The noise swallowed her immediately.
And as she headed toward the bar, the weight slowly lifted off her shoulders. She rolled them subtly when no one was looking, trying to untie the knot caught behind her shoulder blades.
Just get through tonight, she told herself.
Before the world reminded her she didn’t get to have those anymore.
The bar was louder up close.
Not concert-loud — just messy-loud. Bottles clinking. Someone laughing too hard. A bartender moving like he’d done this a thousand nights too many.
Megan leaned against the counter, elbows planting into the wood like she might root there if she stayed long enough, there was something peaceful about it.
About the way her face hurt from smiling.
Which was… ridiculous. She didn’t usually realize she smiled that much after shows. But tonight the music was different. Like a current she didn’t have to fight. Like she didn’t have to hold her breath for once.
A glass slid toward her.
Clear. Cold. Something strong.
She stared at it for a second before wrapping her fingers around the rim.
Not because she wanted to drown anything – she hated when people assumed that. She drank because sometimes she felt like muting the world, just a little. Turning the volume knob down on things she couldn’t control, something that felt almost impossible almost all the time.
She tilted it back.
Let the burn spread warm through her chest.
And the truth, like always, came with it. She began the declaration she has made in her head a million times, to keep her from saying it aloud.
I’m Megan.
Not the stage version.
Not the one with the guitar and the pink bangs and the annoying habit of tripping over her words mid-sentence.
Just Megan.
The one who can’t read fast enough when she’s tired because the letters blur and twist.
The one who’s actually terrible at math and still somehow ends up doing her own bills.
The one who forgets lyrics sometimes because her brain jumps instead of walks.
And also —
The one people project onto buildings.
Spider-Man. The superhero plastered in several murals across the city, the one with costumes made of her for children to dress up as. The friendly neighborhood super hero, protecting your grandma and your best friend's uncle everyday.
But really she felt like just a girl who spent too many nights running along rooftops when she should’ve been sleeping, who learned the hard way that no one ever gives you a manual for this kind of responsibility.
How hard it was to keep everyone safe, even the ones who wanted to hurt you and kill you more than anything in the world. It was harder to tie them up into a bundle of webs than to let them be gone forever.
But no matter how close it got. No matter how loud the voice in her head sometimes begged her to do the easy thing, there was always another voice.
Her uncle’s.
Uncle Ben — her entire blueprint for what “good” was supposed to look like. Not loud, or god like but quiet and constant. A symbol that declared to the world that as long as you were here, everything would be okay.
With great power comes great responsibility, were his dying wish, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Not as a warning.
As a belief.
Like something sacred, a code she must devote every fiber of her being to.
She closed her eyes for a moment.
Let the bar noise melt into a low hum. Let the feeling of the music from before echo in her heartbeat once again.
Instead she thought about last night.
Not with anger.
Not with dread.
Just… like a bad memory she refused to unpack right now.
The research lab alarms that would not shut the fuck up.
The flash of electricity when they tried to crack open the power core installed to a massive machine.
The way one of the many thugs had gotten too close to her ribs, steel against skin.
Kingpin’s people.
Again.
She’d stopped them. Of course she had.
She always does.
And yeah — some of them had landed their hits. Her shoulder still ached when she breathed too deep, and her side was throbbing in that dull, stubborn way like a bruise that wanted revenge.
But tonight?
Tonight she wasn't going to think about it.
She tipped the rest of the drink back and decided, just for this hour, just for this bar, just for this stupid little stage with her stupid beautiful band—
She wasn’t Spider-Man.
She was just Megan Skiendiel.
A guitarist.
A bad reader.
A terrible liar.
A girl who loved loud music and stupid jokes and didn’t want to carry the city alone for one night.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
Like if she squeezed hard enough, she could press the world out of existence.
A second glass slid beside her.
Then a third.
And two familiar presences leaned into her space like gravity had always meant it.
Manon first — same calm energy as always, like a couch you could sink into.
“Wow,” she deadpanned, “you look like you need to get laid.”
Megan snorted softly. “Hot.”
“Always,” Manon replied, raising her glass.
Dani dropped in next, resting her arms on the counter, nudging Megan lightly with her elbow, her hair swishing from the movement.
“So is this the first time we'll get to see Megan skidiel dance?” she teased.
“Wasn’t planning on it,” Megan said, eyes still half-closed. “Too much effort.”
Manon clinked her glass against Megan’s. “Don't think too much, just do it!.”
“Come onnn, I know you're hiding some moves.” Dani added.
“Plus it's going to make you actually relax,” Manon smirked.
Megan cracked a grin. “Maybe” Manon groaned, and took down all of the remaining drink in her cup.
Dani leaned closer, in the way she always needed a point of contact with Megan.
“You played like hell out there,” she said, “Not in a scary way. In a… yeah, no, actually in a scary way. But like. A good one.”
“High praise coming from you,” Megan chuckled, tucking her hair behind her ears.
Dani shrugged. “I don’t give it out easily.”
Manon nudged her. “Except to strangers, dogs, and anyone with a cool jacket.”
“Lies and slander.”
Megan shook her head, laughing under her breath.
“You played, like, scarcely really good too. I mean I wasn't surprised because you pay like that all the time but it felt like, I don't know, electricity up there?” Megan stared into Dani's eyes trying to not fumble into a hole and failing.
Dani just cackled and gave Megan a peck on the cheek. “Come on manon lets dance”
And for the first time all night, the tightness in her chest loosened.
She opened her eyes and let the bar come back into focus.
The sticky counter.
The low lights.
Her girls.
No masks.
No rooftops.
No man in a suit of crime looming over her thoughts.
Just this.
Just them.
And for now,
It was enough.
Manon was suddenly laughing somewhere beside her, already halfway into the crowd, one hand raised with her drink like she was leading a small rebellion.
Sophia followed the two who were dominating the dance floor, pretending to look annoyed but smiling so hard she couldn’t even hide it.
“You’re all embarrassing,” she called. Yoonchae who had already been with Lara throwing her hair with such precision called out,
“Join us or be boring,”already roping Sophia close to the beat, hoodie slipping off one shoulder.
Lara was yelling at the DJ, pointing dramatically.
“PLAY THE OTHER ONE!! THE ONE WITH THE — YOU KNOW — THE THING!!”
“The thing?!” he shouted back.
“Yes!!! THE THING!!!”
Megan snorted, warmth spilling through her chest.
And then the buzz hit her.
Not the messy kind.
Not the dizzy kind.
Just the gentle, golden kind where everything loosened and the noise inside her head finally — finally — shut up.
She leaned back against the wall for a second while the others melted into the dance floor.
Just watched them.
Manon spun in circles like she didn’t care who saw.
Yoonchae was laughing so hard she could barely breathe, clinging to Sophia’s arm.
Lara jumping to the beat like the stage never left her body.
Sophia yelling at all of them to drink water and absolutely not listening to her own advice.
And Dani.
Dani was everywhere.
Moving.
Dancing.
Too fluid.
Too natural.
Like music lived in her blood instead of just her ears. Like every step was meant to be, like she had planned choreo for every song the DJ played.
Megan didn’t realize she’d been staring until Dani looked back and caught her.
Of course she did. A deep flush covered Megan's face, hopefully the lighting could mask it.
Dani broke off from the crowd, hair sticking to her neck, lips parted from laughing too hard, eyes bright like she was powered entirely by adrenaline and bad decisions.
She pointed at Megan.
“You’re doing it again.”
Megan frowned. “Doing what again?”
“Staring, without acting.”
“I- I just like observing better. I've got two left feet” she giggled, trying to cover herself from having to dance.
“Hm, somehow I doubt that, maybe you're just shy and can't take your eyes off of me.”
Megan rolled her eyes. The drink egged her on, "Don't act like you don't love it.”
Dani’s grin widened.
“Maybe I do.”
Then she reached for her.
Not her hand.
Her neck.
Just fingers curling at the base of it, warm from sweat, grounding. A touch that wasn’t soft, but wasn’t rough either — just commanding enough to make Megan’s breath hitch.
“Come on,” Dani said, voice low but playful. “Dance with me.”
“I am dancing,” Megan protested weakly.
“You’re standing,” Dani corrected.
“With rhythm.”
“With fear.”
“Okay rude—”
Dani laughed and tugged her forward anyway.
Megan almost tripped… then caught herself.
And when they hit the crowd, it was different.
Because Megan wasn’t bad at this, she just didn’t usually let anyone see. Music got under her skin fast — always had.The same instincts she used when she moved through the city at night followed her here too… just softer. Measured. Controlled.
Her body found the beat without thinking.
Dani froze for half a second.
Then smirked.
“Oh,” she said. “You’ve been lying to me.”
“About what?” Megan asked, trying not to sound as breathless as she felt.
“Being awkward.”
“I am awkward.”
“You’re awkward emotionally,” Dani replied. “Physically? You’re dangerous.”
Megan snorted. “That’s not a compliment.”
“It absolutely is.”
The crowd moved around them, bodies brushing, heat climbing. Every time someone shoved past, Dani’s hand stayed on Megan’s neck like an anchor. They moved like one being, their bodies knowing exactly where the other would go next.
And Megan’s hands ended up on Dani’s waist. And maybe she wanted them to, wanted them to travel everywhere, to feel every muscle that Dani used to flex and stretch into her dance moves. She gulped, feeling embarrassed about her own thoughts.
Dani looked down.
Then up again.
“You okay?” she hummed.
Megan nodded too fast.
“You don’t look fine.”
“You’re so close. It makes me nervous” She whispered into Dani's ear.
“Mayeb you're the one who's so close”
Megan opened her mouth to answer, but there was no answer.
Dani’s smile softened — just a little.
“Hey,” she murmured, leaning in so the music almost swallowed her voice. “Relax. I’m not gonna bite.”
“You might,” Megan said before thinking.
Dani blinked.
Then I laughed. “You’re right. I might.”
The bass shifted into something slower.
Heavier.
Something you didn’t dance to — you sank into.
Sweaty bodies closing in.
Walls dissolve.
Their bodies just hovering in that almost-space where something waited.
Megan could feel Dani breathing. Dani could feel Megan’s pulse. The world slowly began to fall away from megan, tunnel vision being occupied but the only light in the room worth looking at.
“You dance like you trust the floor,” Dani said into Megan's neck
“It hasn’t dropped me yet.” Megan almost breathed the words out, like it was becoming tougher to breathe
Dani looked at her for a second too long.
Then smiled. “Dotn worry if it ever foes ill catch you” Danie giggled,
Megan swallowed, the words sticking to her chest like gum under a table. If you leave it there for long enough, it will never come off.
“I know.”
And for a second, the world wasn’t a city.
It wasn't a crowd.
It wasn't even a bar.
Just two girls moving in time.
And then…
Black.
-
She had no idea how she had made it back to a bed, several drinks later, and intensive partying with the girls after dancing with Dani left her head feeling like it could blow up. As she shifted in bed, trying to feel out her surroundings she felt a warm body wrapped around her.
God, Megan exasperated in her mind, Daniela Avanzini you’ll be the death of me.