Work Text:
one.
The beach is nice. The last of the sun’s rays start to fall, painting the whole coast, the water, in a pretty orange light. 4c runs his hand through the coarse sand, feeling the grains slip through his fingers. It’s still warm, despite the coming night.
There’s a cake by his side. Is it his birthday? It must be.
He reaches for it, finds no fork or knife or any sort of utensil, really, and so he scoops out a handful. Accidentally mushes a cherry in the process, so sticky red juice spills all over.
4c places the cake in his mouth. Chews, swallows. It’s a good cake! It’s sweet. He licks his fingers clean.
“Wow,” he mumbles.
“Did you have a great day, 4c?”
Spidey’s voice comes from behind him. He doesn’t turn yet, too busy frowning at the cake. It’s all ruined now, because of the cherries. Dripping red.
“I had a great birthday,” he says, anyway, “as much as I can remember.”
It was– it should have been. If he’d been with Spidey and, and Jonathan, it would’ve been an amazing day. He’s sure of that! He just… can’t quite recall–
“What was your favourite memory?” Spidey continues.
Her voice is shaky. Is she alright?
“I, um…”
4c pauses. There’s flashes of memory, too brief to grasp and make sense of. A bright, sunny sky. Rolling waves. An ice-cream truck. Sticky sweetness on his tongue.
“I remember– I went to the beach…” he trails off.
He remembers wind through his hair, too harsh to be a simple sea breeze. He remembers looking down, at the world so far below him everyone seemed like ants, zombies or otherwise. He remembers feeling free.
“I think my favourite memory might be climbing on top of that building, though.”
“Really?” Spidey’s voice is soft.
“Yeah… I can see everything from up there. I’m never going to forget that. It was so beautiful.”
Already, the memory’s slipping away.
“It was– it was a beautiful day, 4c.”
“It was.”
“I– I’m glad that you– I’m glad that you enjoyed the day,” Spidey says, stumbling over her words.
Something in her tone made 4c’s heart tighten. He turns slightly, and Spidey's breath hitches.
“Are you okay? Why are you so sad?”
“I’m okay,” Spidey sniffs, “keep watching the sunset. Look! You don’t want to miss it.”
4c hesitates, then turns back to the sunset. She’s right – it is beautiful! That’s nice.
“Oh, the waves look so pretty.”
His skin itches. He scratches it absentmindedly.
“I love you, 4c.”
“Oh?”
He swallows. What– Spidey sounds–
4c glances at Jonathan. The latter is staring out at the sunset intensely. Maybe he’s really enjoying the view…?
“You’re the best friend I could’ve had,” Spidey continues, and it really, really sounds like she’s holding back tears.
“Are you okay?” 4c asks, worriedly.
He doesn’t take his eyes off the sunset, though. Spidey’d told him to watch. He’s not going to make her feel worse.
“Happy birthday, 4c.”
“Thank you?”
He hears Spidey take a deep, shuddering breath. “Thank you for being a good friend.”
BANG.
two.
It’s cold. The sun is setting in front of him, but all 4c feels is cold. It’s like he got shoved into the ocean and came out sopping wet, with nothing at all to dry him.
It’s odd, to say the least.
…Hang on, wasn’t he– he was on the beach. Before. And he’d had a cake. And the sand was warm.
He buries his hand in the sand. It still is.
Maybe that was yesterday. He keeps forgetting. It should be fine! Spidey and… Jonathan, was it? Spidey and Jonathan would have told him about it if it was really a big deal.
…hey, a cake! It must be his birthday.
Or maybe it’s Spidey’s? No, Spidey would have told him if it was her birthday. He’s sure he’d remember something as important as that.
“I’m glad that you enjoyed today,” Spidey says, from behind him.
…Wait.
“Are you– are you okay, Spidey?”
4c wants to turn, to comfort her. But there’s something in his mind telling him not to, despite the fact that Spidey had never said anything about that. So he doesn’t. He watches the sunset.
“I’m okay,” Spidey says. Then, quietly, “I love you, 4c.”
“Spidey,” 4c says, voice rising slightly, “Spidey, what’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing,” Spidey says. “I– Happy birthday, 4c.”
Something’s wrong. “It’s not–”
“It is,” Spidey insists. “It’s your birthday, 4c. You’re supposed to be happy. Please. Just– look at the sunset.”
4c… does. Spidey sniffs behind him.
“Thank you,” she says. “Thank you for being a good friend.”
BANG.
three.
Waves crash against the shore. The sound fills his ears, loud and echoing. He feels like he’s sinking, water pushing him down, down, down–
4c gasps.
The sky is streaked with red. The sand is… warm. Not red. Why would it be red? That’s just stupid.
His hand clenches. Grains of sand stick to his sticky, sweaty palm. He tries to brush them off, but they don’t come off.
A sniffle from behind him. 4c doesn’t look back, though he really, really wants to. Instead, he turns to the side, where Jonathan’s standing. Stock-still.
Say something, he thinks, in the other’s direction. Spidey’s sniffs grow louder. Say something, Jonathan.
Jonathan doesn’t meet his gaze. He stares right out at the sunset. 4c worries his lip between his teeth.
Why does he look so hurt?
“I love you, 4c,” Spidey says, choked-up.
“What about– what about Jonathan?” 4c asks. Immediately regrets it, because Jonathan flinches and Spidey lets out a sharp sound, but barrels on anyway. “D’you love him too?”
Silence stretches between the three of them, broken only by the sound of the ocean.
“I do, 4c,” Spidey finally says. “We all do. It’s just–”
She cuts herself off, hiccupping, and 4c feels a twinge of regret.
“Okay,” he says instead, because he wants her happy, “I’m sorry. I love you too, Spidey.”
Hesitates. “And Jonathan. I love you both.”
Jonathan’s voice is gravelly when he responds. “Thanks, 4c. I lo-”
He clears his throat. “Thank you.”
A smile slips onto 4c’s face. “That’s nice!”
“It is nice, 4c,” Spidey says. “I, um– happy birthday, 4c. Happy birthday.”
“Thank y–”
BANG.
four.
When 4c sticks his hand in the sand this time, the grains don’t come off.
He frowns, trying to shake them off. Then to wipe them on his pants. Then to wash his hand in the ocean. Nothing works.
Oh, well. That’s a problem for later! It’s not like he’s going to eat or anything.
…Wait, this time?
4c vaguely remembers: the cake, the beach, the sunset, the bang–
His head aches.
Spidey’s talking behind him, stilted, but he can’t quite make it out over the ringing in his ears. He needs something to take the edge off. His gaze falls on the cake by his side.
He doesn’t have any utensils, so he digs his fingers into the frosting and scoops out some cake. Puts it to his mouth, lets the taste linger on his tongue. The sweetness helps, just a smidge. It chases away the budding headache.
“–c? 4c, are you alright?” Spidey’s voice cuts through the static.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” 4c mumbles, through a full mouth.
He swallows. Belatedly, he realises that there’s sand on his hand, which means there’s sand on the cake, which means there’s sand in his mouth. Grit stuck behind his teeth, under his tongue, itching.
It’s not just there. It’s his whole body; his arms, neck, face, chest– he scratches his arm, nails digging in.
“Stop scratching, 4c,” Spidey tells him, desperation leaking into her voice, “you’ll make it worse.”
“It hurts,” 4c says.
He scratches and scratches until his hands come back red. Is it the cherries? He doesn’t remember how the red got there… He glances at the cake, but the cherries are intact.
His skin is itching. He feels like clawing it all off.
“4c, stop, please, you’re bleeding,” Spidey says.
“I know,” 4c tells her. “It hurts.”
“I know it hurts,” Spidey says, and her voice cracks. “I’ll– I’ll make it better, alright? Just, just stop scratching.”
“Okay,” 4c says, and he stops. “Thanks, Spidey. You’re a good friend.”
“Oh!” Spidey pauses. “You’re a good friend too, 4c. You’re the best friend I could’ve had.”
BANG.
five.
"Happy birthday, 4c."
He turns, this time. He needs to know. He needs to-
Spidey's holding a rifle, Jonathan's rifle, and there's tears running down her face. She looks at him with quivering lips. Her hands are shaking.
"Oh," he says. "Oh."
He looks at Jonathan. Jonathan meets his eyes, then wrenches his gaze away, eyes glassy.
"I'm sorry, 4c," Spidey says. "Just-close your eyes. Look away. Please."
4c doesn't move for a long time. Then, slowly, he turns back around.
"I love you guys," he says. "It's been, um, it's been really fun hanging out together." Huffs out a laugh. "Gosh, what do people say when they're about to die? This is difficult."
"Don't-" Spidey starts, then sighs. "You're not-4c, please."
"Okay," 4c says. "I do love you, though."
"I know," Spidey says. "We love you too."
BANG.
six.
This time, he closes his eyes.
seven.
"-eep watching the sunset," Spidey says. "Look! You don't want to miss it."
4c does not look. There's only two things he would like to look at, today, and the sunset is not one of them. He gets up, turns, and runs to hug Jonathan tightly.
He stumbles into the older man's arms, making him flinch. He hugs 4c back anyway, even if his arms are stiff and his back straight. Lets 4c melt into him, bury his face in his shoulder.
There's a small gasp behind them, and something clatters to the ground. There's the distinct sound of someone kicking an object away. 4c doesn't look, just closes his eyes and squeezes Jonathan harder. He doesn't need to look. He doesn't.
Jonathan pats him on the head. "Um, are you alright?-oh."
4c untangles himself and immediately beelines for Spidey, who makes a startled noise and then throws her arms around him tightly.
"You're supposed to be watching the sunset," she mumbles into his ear, but doesn't let go.
Neither does 4c. They stay there, in each other's embrace, until Jonathan clears his throat, coughs, and then pries them apart. 4c blinks away his tears.
"Go and-go and watch the sunset, 4c," Spidey says, again, even though the sky is dark and the stars have already come out.
4c goes and sits by the beach anyway. Closes his eyes. Waits.
BANG.