Archive of Our Own

Dustin was right. Maybe Mike shouldn’t have gotten into photography.

In his defense, Mike had assumed photography meant taking pictures of cool buildings , or capturing photos of people posing in the streets, or other bullshit he'd seen online. Maybe he could’ve just been a writer like he always wanted to be when he was younger, but creative industries weren't exactly the easiest thing to get into.

So in the end, he crushed all those dreams of becoming an aspiring author, turned tail to the big city, and now here he was stuck standing on the roof of a burning building, all because he decided he wanted to take pictures of superheroes instead. 

More specifically, take pictures of Spider-Man.

But alas, Spider-Man did not make photography easy.

Mike didn’t know why he'd chosen Spider-Man specifically. He could’ve done anything else, and it would’ve been easier. His twenty year old self wasn’t exactly known for making the best decisions, leaving him to regret his choices three years later.

For the past hour, Mike had been trying to get the perfect photo of him, maybe one of Spider-Man swinging, saving a child from danger, or something valiant and heroic like that. But  all he’d been catching were smudges of black and yellow. So of course, the reasonable thing was to keep trying, right?

Wrong.

Mike should’ve gone home the second some guy in some purple suit shot a fireball from the ground floor of the apartment Mike had been on. He hadn’t expected the flame to spread— the building barely even shook, but Mike supposed he should’ve paid more attention in 7th grade science class, because now the structure was seconds away from crumbling into a pile of ash, and it probably planned on taking him with it.

“Shit—” Mike coughed into his palm as he frantically backed away from the ledge, the smoke levitating towards the sky.

“Fuck fuck fuck—”

Sirens sounded below as people screamed for their loved ones, and in the corner of Mike's eye  Spider-Man swung in and out of the apartment rescuing people.

Mike was so fucked. With all the smoke wafting out of the windows, it surrounded him, making him practically invisible to anyone on the ground.

Call someone— you have your phone on you. Call 911.

Mike tried his hardest to grab his phone from his pocket as he tried to keep his distance from the smoke, covering his nose and mouth with his sleeve as if it did anything.

He barely managed to lift it from his pocket, nearly dropping it in the process as he attempted four times to dial three numbers.

“Hello? This is 911, what’s your emergency?”

“I’m on the roof—” Mike cut himself off with a fit of coughing.

“Sir, please step away from the edge, I’m contacting—”

“What? No— I’m not trying to kill myself— hrugh— The building I’m on is on fire!”

Whatever the lady on the other line said, Mike didn’t hear. The phone slipped from his grasp in a panic as the smoke started to blow his way because of the wind. Thanks, New York.

The odds were clearly not in his favor. With every passing second, Mike was beginning to become more and more convinced he was gonna die up here. He wondered what his tombstone would say.

‘MJ’ Wheeler, died trying to take photos of Spider-Man, who was probably bald. He didn’t know, honestly. He died like an idiot before he could ask" 

What a way to go.

He could hear the building creak below him, threatening to collapse in on itself at any moment. Mike silently prayed to any god who might’ve been listening. Jesus, Buddha, Allah to at least make his death as quick and painless as poss—

“Hey!”

And the next thing he knew, Mike was in the air.

The wind zipped by his ears, Mike could barely hear anything. All he knew was he was now clutching onto the body of Spider-Man, of all people, probably hundreds of feet off the ground.

“What the fuck— Whatthefuck—!”

“Just hang on! You’ll be fine!”

Mike didn’t dare to look down. He knew if he opened his eyes he’d only freak himself out more, and that wouldn’t make things any easier.

So obviously, he opened his eyes.

In an instant, the sight of the city around him zip by made his head reel so hard he thought his eyes were spinning. He could hardly process how high up he was before he squeezed his eyes shut to prevent himself from projectile vomiting mid-air.

At the thought of the hero next to him, his mind forced itself into the present as  he felt Spider-Man slow, and eventually touch the ground. Even with safety in his clutches, Mike still kept himself wrapped around his torso, the other man supporting him with a steady hand at the small of his back. 

“Hey, uh, you can probably let go now,” Spider-Man said, his voice sounding oddly deep, like he was a middle school boy attempting to seem cool.

Mike felt his face heat up. “Oh— yeah, sorry.” He slowly detached himself from the other man, and stood precariously on his feet, wobbling like a foal learning to walk.

Spider-Man had placed him on the roof of another apartment a good distance from the building, but where he could still see the smoke billowing into the sky.

“You okay?”

It took Mike’s brain about ten seconds to process the two words. Like a really shitty computer. 

“Uh— yeah. T-thank you,” Mike stuttered.

“‘Course,” Spider-Man said, and Mike could've sworn he was smirking if it weren't for the mask. He held out Mike’s phone to him, the familiar sword and shield design of his case looking directly up at his face.

“Wha— how did you—?” Mike graciously took the phone back from him, turning it over in his hands. Still completely intact. Barely a scratch. Nice. 

Spider-Man threw up his hands. “Webs.” He supplied helpfully, wiggling his fingers a bit, he even did a little demonstration, small strings  of silk released  from both of his wrists, Mike urged his eyes not to follow.

Now, Mike would be lying if he said this was his first interaction with Spider-Man. In reality, it was probably his fourth-ish. Mike couldn’t bother to remember right now. 

“Y’know, you should probably stop hanging around battles. This is like the fifth time I’ve had to save you. I thought most citizens would have a bit more of a sense of self-preservation, but I guess not.”

Mike flushed. “Oh. Yeah. It’s… sort of my job to take photos of you, for like, newspapers and crap. So…” He trailed off.

“Oh, no way! You’re uh…” Spider-Man snapped his fingers. “You’re that photographer! Mark!” 

“It’s Mike. But sure, close enough,” Mike chuckled, the sound shrill even to his own ears.

“Love your stuff!” Spider-Man continued, uncaring for the mess-up.“You always make me look great in those. Y’know, if you wanted help to take photos of me you could’ve just asked.”

“Thanks— what?” 

Mike had only been prepared for a compliment. Maybe he’d gotten too used to Will showering him with praise all the time. But Spider-Man’s last words threw him completely off guard.

Spider-Man just nodded at him casually, like they were two ‘bros’ doing each other a favor. “Yeah! Like, you stand on a roof, I swing around a bit, you take some photos. Not too hard, right?”

Mike sputtered. “Oh—well, uhm, I don’t know. I mean, thanks for the offer, but I wouldn’t wanna take up any of your time since you’re like, a superhero or whatever?”

Spider-Man briefly glanced over his shoulder back to the building, the smoke was beginning to lessen. “I don’t have a problem with spending a little while just moving around a bit for some pictures. I’d be honored to have my photos personally taken by the one and only.”

“Uh, I don’t know—”

Something beeped on Spider-Man’s body.

  “Whoops— would love to keep talking, man, but I gotta go. I’ll find you sometime tomorrow afternoon, kay?”

And with that, Spider-Man was gone, leaving Mike on the roof of a random building in shock at what had just happened.

Mike was now scheduled for a photoshoot with the Spider-Man, savior of New York, national superhero, and now, Mike’s client.

As he made his way down the stairs from the rooftop, he realized where Spider-Man had placed him.

This was his own apartment. The one Mike slept, ate, and lived in. The one that Spider-Man somehow knew.

His day just kept getting weirder.

* * *

“—And then he just swung away!” 

Mike took a long, dragging sip of his coffee. He was seated with ‘the party,’ his childhood best friends since middle school, at the local cafe, just seven blocks off from his apartment, hidden behind the banks and apartments that littered their city.

It had been about a day since his meeting with Spider-Man. And according to him, that afternoon Mike was going to be swept up and brought somewhere for a photoshoot.

Well, Mike couldn't really complain— it meant he could save time and get his job done a lot quicker, plus he’d get to know the elusive Spider-Man a bit better. Still, it didn't make the situation any less weird. A superhero willingly chatting with the press? Unheard of. 

“Well, it makes sense,” Max said, shrugging.

“Sense how? A superhero randomly pops up out of nowhere and offers to meet up with me so I can take pictures of him? None of that ‘makes sense’ to me,” Mike replied, as he reclined  back in his chair with a huff

Max stared back at him like the answer was obvious, before stealing  a glance at Lucas beside her.

“Because he’s obsessed with you?”

She let the words hang in the air before Mike spoke up again.

“ Pfft, that's ridiculous. How is  he obsessed with me? He just saves my ass from dying, like, every other week,” he retorted, his mouth contorting upward at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

Max’s eyes looked like they'd reached the back of her head by how hard she rolled them. “Maybe because this isn’t the first time you’ve had a full conversation with each other? I distinctly remember you telling us about you guys talking. Like that time at the bridge, or the library, the police statio—”

“Okay! Okay, I get it. That still doesn’t prove anything though.”

“I don’t think so,” Jane hummed, her tone dreamy. “Spider-Man doesn’t usually talk to any of us when we have to get rescued.”

Now it was Mike’s turn to roll his eyes. “Fine, so we’re friendly with each other. He saves me all the time so I guess we’d have to know one another at some point.”

“And…” Max began. “He knows us because of you.”

“Okay, you’re just lying at this point—”

“I’m not!” She hissed . “I had him come up to me one time when the community center was being destroyed, and he said: ‘Max! Where’s Mike?’” her voice pitched a few semitones deeper just then, “—before swinging off into a random direction. I don’t think you were even there, but I guess you’re his top priority.”

When Mike didn’t immediately respond, she continued.

“He’s definitely obsessed with you. None of us know him, and somehow he knew my name before I ever even spoke to him. Not to mention, the one time we interacted, it was because he was looking for you.”

Mike stared down at the cup of coffee between his palms . Weird. He didn’t feel like Spider-Man’s top priority, considering he got saved practically last from the fire the day before. Then again, if Max’s theory was right, it could’ve just been him making time to talk.

“What? But— he called me Mark earlier.”

“He was probably just fucking with you. It seems in character for him.”

“But none of that means anything.”

“It means he’s in love with you.”

Will sputtered into his drink, and Jane let out a delighted gasp before falling into a fit of giggles.

“Mike, that’s sick!” Dustin exclaimed. “Dude, you could have a superhero boyfriend!”

Mike felt his face turn red. “Calm down, he’s not in love with me.”

“Evidence shows otherwise,” Lucas teased, earning a snarky grin from Max.

Mike huffed into his drink. “Seriously? What are the odds of our friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man being gay?”

“Maybe the odds of him waving a humongous  pride flag around the city last June?”

Okay, maybe she had him there. But still, famous superhero Spider-Man who fights crime everyday, gets murals painted of him, probably has a shit ton of awards, being in love with him? Michael James Wheeler? Unlikely.

“Thats—” Mike cut himself off, feeling backed into a corner. He groaned and turned to face his best friend, who was wiping drops of coffee off the table. “Come on, Will, back me up here.”

Will shrugged. “I don’t know, Mike. Can’t say I know the guy very well.”

“See? Will agrees with me!”

“He said he didn’t know,” Max snapped back.

“Come on Mike, Spider-Man liking you is not a bad thing…” Jane murmured, having calmed down from her giggle-fest.

“I know, I’m just not convinced. Spider-Man being in love with basic photographer MJ  Wheeler doesn’t sound plausible to me. Like, why would he pick me when he could have literally anyone  in New York?”

“Maybe ask him that when you meet up today?” Max offered.

Mike looked down at his now empty cup. “Well— I’m not jumping to conclusions. I still don’t think he’s in love with me.”

“...Keep telling yourself that.”

* * *

Mike didn’t know what he was supposed to be waiting for. He and his friends had parted ways after they had lunch, and now he was wandering the busy streets of New York City. For Spider-Man to spot him, he either had the eyes of a hawk— or Max was right, and he really was obsessed with him.

He laughed at the idea. Spider-Man making time to talk to him and even going so far as to learn his friend group was ridiculous. Max probably just told him her name before and forgot. He tossed the idea around in his head of getting into yet another argument with Max Mayfield, before he was pulled into the air. Instantly, he was off the ground in seconds. He didn’t even have enough time to scream— and just a second after he blinked, he felt something grab onto his torso, and was then swiftly lowered onto the roof of a random building.

“Jesus fucking Christ— Give a guy a little warning next time!” He shouted, dusting himself off and checking to make sure the camera slung around his shoulders wasn’t damaged.

“Sorry,” Mike heard a familiar voice behind him chuckle.

When he turned around to look at his captor, he was met face-to-face with Spider-Man again, only this time, he was swung upside-down, hanging off one of his webs from one of those rooftop water tanks.

Being so up close to him now, Mike could see the effort and detail put into his suit. The smooth but breathable black material crossed over with lines of gold to resemble the web of a spider, leading to the insect splayed out over his chest. Spider-Man must care for his suit like a maniac, or maybe it was just that durable, because there wasn’t a single scratch that Mike could see.

“You just gonna stare? Or…”

“Right— sorry,” Mike took a couple steps back, before he remembered he was in the presence of a superhero. A superhero who was probably used to constantly being praised and complimented. And even though he definitely deserved all that applause— It probably wouldn’t hurt to humble him a bit.

“And for the record, that pose isn’t as cool as you think it is.”

Spider-Man only laughed in response. “Yeah, it is. You love it, I love it, everyone loves it. That’s kinda the reason why it’s all over my merchandise all the time.”

“That’s also the reason why I’m sick of it. A guy gets tired after seeing Spider-Man hanging upside-down for the two-hundredth time.”

Spider-Man flipped himself around so quickly Mike could barely process what happened, before he was standing on two legs again right in front of him.

“Then what do you think I should do?” He leaned forward, the glossy white of his eyes reflecting off the sunlight.

Mike opened his mouth, then shut it again. Fine, if Spider-Man was planning on constantly being sarcastic and teasing him, then two could play at that game.

“...you’re a lot shorter than I thought you’d be.”

Spider-Man paused. He seemed at a loss for words, and internally, Mike celebrated that as a win.

“Wha— doesn’t matter! You’re just freakishly tall,” He yelled, before he promptly shot a splatter of web into Mike’s face.

Mike stumbled backwards, barely catching himself with his arms when he inevitably hit the ground. “Hrck— pleh—! What was that for?”

“For using your monstrous height against me.”

Mike tried to remove the web from his face, the sticky silk attaching to fingers whenever he tried to pull it off his skin. “Whatever,” he grumbled.

Spider-Man walked over and helped pull Mike back up to his feet, plucking the last of the web from his face so he could see properly. He mumbled a barely audible thanks in return .

“So… uh, the photo thing?” Mike started.

Spider-Man shrugged and looked back at him expectantly. “You’re the one with the camera. Tell me what to do.”

Mike swallowed. “Uh, okay…”

The two of them stayed on that rooftop for a while, Mike ordering Spider-Man around to pose on corners or swing for Mike to capture him perfectly mid-air. Each time Mike would show him the photo, Spider-Man would compliment him, say something sarcastic or snarky, and then pose again. Mike didn’t bother to check the time. That only meant being reminded he’d inevitably have to go home soon.

By the end of it, Mike had enough photos to cover himself for the rest of the week, but he found himself enjoying his time with Spider-Man a lot more than he had expected. 

“Looks great. You have a real eye for these things,” Spider-Man nodded at  the image on Mike’s camera. 

“You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s true! Those newspaper guys picked you for a reason. You really know your stuff.”

Mike avoided eye contact. “Thanks,” he muttered.

Mike’s phone buzzed in his back pocket. Annoyed, he pulled it out and skimmed  the notification on the screen.

WhatsApp: Dustin Henderson, 3:41

“Hey! You still up for dinner with everyone?”

Mike grimaced, a sense of disappointment washing over him, dreading having to cut his time short.

“Everything okay?”

Mike looked up, Spider-Man stood erect casually in front of him. “Oh, yeah. Sorry— my friends scheduled something with me today. I need to head home soon.”

Spider-Man nodded in understanding. “That’s fine— I probably have stuff to do today too. Superhero… stuff. All that.”

Mike caught himself smiling. Entirely involuntary. “Sure,” he all but giggled.

Spider-Man went to stand next to Mike, reaching out his arm behind him but not touching his back. “Need a ride back?”

“Oh. Yeah, that’d be great actually— holy—!” 

For the third time that week, Mike is sent into the air again. He clung onto Spider-Man, keeping his face mushed  against the hero’s shoulder, steeling himself to avoid opening his eyes again.

This time, the universe (read: friendly neighborhood superhero) decided to take pity on him, and the ‘ride’ ended up going much smoother than all the other times before. Less than a minute later, Mike found himself in the familiar alleyway next to his apartment.

“I’ll see you around. Same time next week?”

“I— again?”

“Yup! I’ll find you.”

Spider-Man didn’t wait around for a response or even a question about how he knew where Mike lived before he was gone.

The worst part? Mike felt a sudden flush rush to his cheeks as he watched New York’s superhero swing away, his heart pulling taut as more and more distance separated them.

The walk back to his apartment was slow, and opening the door, it felt strangely quiet. Inappropriately normal, for everything that had happened that day.

The couch was still the same, desk was still the same, dresser was still the same, but Mike Wheeler felt completely different.

He went into his room, collapsing onto his bed without bothering to take a shower or change his clothes. Mike stared up at his ceiling, and kept staring. Stared some more, like he was waiting for it to change.

The image of a black and gold suited man played  in his head like a broken record. A familiar voice, snarky remarks, and the confidence Mike could never dream of achieving.

Mike knew he had plans that day, but they didn’t concern him anymore. Screw the dinner. He could be late. It wouldn’t be a big deal. His friends were late all the time.

So, he stayed like that, for a while, looping  every moment of the afternoon in his head.

“Then what do you think I should do?”

“For using your monstrous height against me.”

“I’ll see you around. Same time next week?”

Again, and again, and again. Spider-Man was now a permanent resident in Mike’s head. He’d never leave, and Mike wouldn’t want him to.

God, someone save him.

He was so fucked.

* * *

Dinner was quiet.

Dustin talked about some weird animal while Lucas listened intently, Jane and Max were sat side by side, whispering and giggling to each other, and Will was late, like usual.

Every time the party hung out, Will would always come running ten to thirty minutes later. Most people would find it annoying, but him being tardy so often basically made it normal. It was just part of their routine now, even if that meant Mike would have to sit in awkward silence as he waited for his best friend to arrive.

It’s not that there was anything wrong with the rest of their friends— god, no. Mike loved them, and he had for years. But something about Will’s presence just brightened Mike’s world. Being able to slip into the comforting familiarity of having his best friend beside him, who had been beside him for most of his life,  gave Mike the confidence he needed to actually join a  conversation and socialize.

That probably wasn’t normal. Depending on your friend of eighteen years to be able to talk to other people might not have been the healthiest. But Mike couldn’t be bothered to think about it too much. 

Finally, Will came in through the front doors and made his way to their table, hair stuck to his sweaty forehead and panting like he’d just ran a mile. Mike could feel the tension he didn’t know he held leave his body as Will made his way to the table.

“Jesus Will— what happened to you?” Lucas spoke up.

Mike scooted over to give room for Will. “What? Oh— uh, nothing. I just lost track of time again and didn’t want to be late.”

Jane snorted. “You’re always late anyway!” She playfully shoved her brother, with Will fondly returning the gesture.

“So, what’s going on?”

“Dustin’s been telling me all about this thing called a magnapinna squid,” Lucas smirked, his smile growing wider when he saw Dustin’s face light up, a toothy grin present on his face.

“Yes! They’re so cool, Will! God, I gotta tell you all about them, they’re fascinating!”

Will grinned back at Dustin as he started talking again. All of a sudden, Dustin immediately stopped in his tracks, an audible crack in his neck as he turned  straight to Mike.

“Holy shit! Mike— you and Spider-Man!”

Max gasped, eyes alight. “Oh my god! I totally forgot! How was it?”

Mike let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Uh, I don’t know, it was… good?” He muttered, the sentence actively dying on his tongue.

“Seriously? Just good? Dude, you basically just had a date with a superhero,” Dustin scoffed.

“It wasn’t a date. He was just… being friendly— I don’t know.”

“What happened? Did you really just take photos?” Jane chirped.

Mike swallowed. “Yeah. We just took photos.”

The table stayed quiet. You’d think Mike had just admitted to killing a kitten with the way they looked at him. Max was the first one to speak up.

“…Come on, Mike.”

“I’m telling the truth! We just took photos! That was it!”

Lucas blinked at him, sighing and dropping his shoulders. “And he didn’t say anything during this…?”

Mike paused.

“Well— sort of? I mean— he talked to me. Obviously. He needed to.”

“You know what we mean.” Max narrowed her eyes at him.

Mike sighed. “I guess he, like, joked around with me a bit and complimented my photos, but that was it. Honest.”

“‘Joked around a bit,’ are you sure he’s not flirting?”

Mike choked, almost offended. “Wha— he’s Spider-Man! Joking is his whole thing. He’s the confident funny superhero that humiliates criminals and saves the day.”

“You said he complimented you too. That’s good, right?” Jane mentioned.

Mike’s face flushed, going to pick at his nails whilst avoiding eye contact with the others.

“Yeah, but that’s just common courtesy. It’s not like he was going to insult me or anything.”

“So that’s it? You took some photos, he complimented you, and then you both just, what, left?”

Mike opened his mouth, then promptly shut it again.

“Mike.” 

“Okay, okay! Maybe we might have another meeting next week…”

Dustin and Jane gasped, Max stared back, gaping at him.

“Mike, that’s amazing!” Jane clapped her hands together.

“Yeah, good for you man!” Lucas added.

“It’s not a huge deal—”

“Mike, this is the biggest deal,” Dustin said, interrupting him.

Mike sunk back into his chair, crossing his arms. “...He’s just being nice.”

The table groaned, all except for Will, who stayed quiet beside Mike, seemingly off in his own world like he usually was.

Will did that a lot. He would look out into the distance while conversations went on, only occasionally joining in a few times, piping up with broken sentences, and then nothing . Mike always wondered what he thought of when he did that. Whenever he would question him, Will would respond with something along the lines of: ‘Just had an idea for painting, the scenery here is really nice,’ or ‘I don’t know, I’m thinking’ and Mike would never prod beyond that.

“You can’t just call everything he’s doing ‘nice,’” Max said.

“But that’s what he’s doing!’

Dustin put his arms on the table, looking directly at him. “Wait— okay, Mike. In the situation that he does like you—which he clearly does, by the way—what would you do?”

Mike shut off for a second, imagining a universe  where he and Spider-Man were  actually in a relationship. He quickly shut the idea off in his head once he started thinking about what kissing would potentially be like. He wouldn’t allow himself the luxury of those of thoughts. They didn’t serve for anything good.

“Uhm…”

They watched him.

“…I don’t know?”

“Mike!” Jane giggled.

“So you don’t even know if you like him?” Max asked.

Mike’s eyes flicked across the room. “If— if I did it’d be too confusing. It’s probably for the best if I don’t.”

“Jesus…” Lucas mumbled, hiding his face in Max’s shoulder.

Max still didn’t seem satisfied with that answer. She looked like she was about to go off  again until  the waiter came over.

The conversation came to a stop as they went around the table one by one. Will stood up.

“I’m gonna use the bathroom. Can you order for me?” He said in a hushed tone, only for Mike to hear.

Mike smiled, happy to be of service. “Yeah, of course. I know what you like.”

Will grinned back at him. “Thanks.”

He put a hand on Mike’s shoulder, letting the warmth of his palm linger there for a second before he walked away. Mike was tempted to hold it there, to keep the physical contact for just a moment longer, but simply watched in disappointment as Will left.

When he turned back to the table and everyone was staring at him expectantly. Mike stuttered and scrambled to gather his thoughts, muttering his and Will’s order. He only relaxed when the waiter was out of view.

“…and that's another thing,” Max said.

“Oh my god, give me a fucking break.” He groaned and leaned back even more, back almost fully flat on the seat as he rubbed his face with his hands.

Jane watched him, her brows pinching together with concern. “Are you worried that Will doesn’t like you back?”

“Because he obviously does,” Dustin not-so-subtly whispered. 

“Shut up. No, because it’s— it’s nothing.”

“You’re more clueless than I thought. First Spider-Man, now this,” Max ran a hand through her hair.

“I’m not clueless, I just don’t think that your… theories are true.”

Max rolled her eyes. “Well, that’s five against one.”

Mike sputtered and scanned the faces of his friends, they were all staring back at him, half with expectant looks and others completely tired.

Spider-Man was one thing— one thing Mike was absolutely sure of, that being that he was in fact not in love with him because he was a huge, famous, strong superhero and Mike was just a basic citizen who spent five minutes everyday struggling to remember which key went in his front door. 

Will was… Will was something else entirely. Mike could avoid the allegations of liking Spider-Man for as long as he wanted, but it suddenly became a lot more complicated  when it came to his best friend. 

Maybe part of that was because said allegations of him liking Will were slightly true. He could admit that, at least. Mike had gotten over the fear of his own sexuality back a long time ag , he just… never did anything with it. Mike Wheeler wasn’t one to sleep around or flirt with guys at bars, he was just a standard guy trying to make it through life everyday.

And as much as the group would try to convince him to say something to Will, Mike never budged. He’d rather die with longing and suffer in silence than have to potentially ruin their perfect friendship. 

Will thankfully returned back to the table, taking his spot next to Mike again. This time, his hand briefly rested on Mike’s knee. Probably just a nice gesture, Will would forget it by the morning. But it set something off in Mike’s brain, and then it was all he could think about.

When he looked back up, the rest of their friends were staring at him in suspicion .

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

The next few meetings went smoothly. And yeah, few. It was a regular thing now, surprisingly. Just another thing to add to Mike’s routine.

The second time Mike and Spider-Man had met up, it went about the same as the first. Taking photos, chatting, basic things friends did. Only after it had ended and he swung Mike back home again, Spider-Man approached him with the idea of meeting up regularly.

“I— again?”

“Yeah!” Spider-Man was perched along the side of the wall of the alleyway, gazing down at Mike, “I’m having fun, you’re having fun, it’s only the logical thing to do, right? And you get some help out with your job!”

Mike blinked, and avoided Spider-Man’s eyes, focusing instead on his own feet. Yup. Cool shoes. Superrrr cool.

“Uh— okay. If you want to, I guess.”

He could practically hear the satisfactory grin under Spider-Man’s mask. “Cool! How about… Tuesdays and Thursdays? Same time as usual.”

“Yeah— yeah that works.”

“Alright, I better not see you at the next battle.”

Mike nodded, feeling his hand with his face to make sure it wasn’t heating up again for the tenth time that day. It was in fact, heating up again.

“...But if I do, I won’t complain.” 

And then he was gone again.

* * *

Of course, Mike’s friends were overjoyed when he told them the news. And like normal, they prodded him about his and Spider-Man’s relationship, and also like normal, Mike simply  deflected them.

Every time the subject was brought up, Mike looked to Will to see his reaction. 

Nothing. He was just silent.

So, that was how Mike had gotten himself into the situation today. After a few more meetings with Spider-Man, he’d invited Will to his apartment, to sit and watch a movie like they’d been doing monthly for the past eighteen years, just like all those times back in the basement of Mike’s childhood home.

Will was curled up  on Mike’s couch with a sketchbook in his hands, while Mike mixed up some tea in his open kitchen for the both of them.

He didn’t need to ask Will what he wanted, they’d done this so many times that Mike had Will’s tea preferences memorized. This much sugar, that much honey, and a bit of coconut milk that Mike went out to buy just for occasions like this. He’d never tell Will that, though.

“So…” Mike started.

“So…?” Will glanced up from his work, a slight smile on his face.

“Spider-Man,” Mike stated, putting the word out there.

Will went back to his drawing, not a single thought given, “What about him?”

Mike shrugged, going to grab some sugar from his cupboard. “Nothing. Just… a thing that’s been happening.”

Will snorted. “That’s one way to describe it.”

Mike kept himself from sighing. It was fine. Will didn’t care— he wasn’t jealous or angry. That was a good thing.

Still, that didn’t keep him from asking.

“You don’t have a problem with me… hanging out with him a lot now?”

Will paused.

“Uh, no? Why? Is everything okay?”

Mike swallowed. “Yeah, of course. I just thought… I don’t know. I don’t want to seem like I’m prioritizing him over you, I’m not trying to take time away from us hanging out together.”

Will hummed, subtle concern washing over his face. “Mike, it’s fine. Seriously. I know that you wouldn’t do that. We’ve been best friends for years, nothing would make me think that.”

That wasn’t the answer he’d been hoping for. 

“Yeah, thanks Will,” He forced a smile, carrying over their steaming drinks and setting them on the coffee table .

The two of them remained quiet, the sound of Will’s pencil scratches filled the room.

“Mike, I can tell something’s bothering you.”

Mike huffed a dry laugh and stood up to go pick out a movie, unable to find the courage to look his best friend in the eye.

“I’m fine. I just…”

“Just…?”

“You’re not like… upset about it?”

Will raised a brow. “Mike, I already told you. Why would I be upset?” He leaned forward in his seat, setting his sketchbook to the side. “Mike, this is a great opportunity for you. It makes your job easier, I don’t have to worry about you all the time, and plus, now you get to say you’re friends with a superhero.”

Mike chuckled, attempting  to mask the probably obvious disappointment on his face . “Yeah. I mean— I’m just saying… You seem way more casual about this than the others. I don’t know.”

Will laughed and shrugged. He went to take a sip from his drink. “Yeah, I mean, I figured you prefer this over me freaking out and making a huge fuss like the others. Do you want me to?”

No, Mike thought to himself. I just want you to care.

He didn’t know why he was getting worked up over this. Will was being a good friend— a great friend. He considered  Mike’s preferences and boundaries and he's done everything right. Mike shouldn’t be upset.

Stupid. This is stupid.

He ran through the movies they owned, keeping the words buried in his mind. “Obviously not. I think Dustin has you covered.”

The two of them laughed together, like all the times they had before, before the silence drowned the room again.

Mike’s fingers landed on a random movie, and they both sat down to watch it, just like they always did. Mike hardly remembered what happened— all he could think about were Will’s words.

Maybe part of Mike believed what their friends said might’ve been true. About Will returning his feelings. It wasn’t a secret that Will was gay, too. It was possible. But those ideas were crushed when Will didn’t react to the potential idea of Mike being taken by someone else. 

He could’ve actually been on Mike’s side. Will might’ve thought that Spider-Man actually wasn’t in love with Mike— oh, fuck him. Obviously what was happening with Spider-Man wasn’t normal. Mike couldn’t tell if it was exactly flirting, but it definitely wasn’t friendly. Mike only believed half the things he said. He mostly only did it to fuck with his friends. Anybody with enough sense could tell that there was something happening. Whether it was romantic or not, Mike still wasn’t entirely sure. 

But maybe he’d just hoped that Will would’ve been slightly more defensive of him. That he’d fight to keep Mike more, even if it was just for platonic reasons. But he didn’t do anything. He barely gave Mike’s relationship with Spider-Man a second thought.

That was fine. Mike would be fine. He wasn’t a middle schooler. Petty bullshit like that shouldn’t have gotten to him. He wasn’t going to let it get to him.

Will was his friend. And that was all he was going to be. Even if he touched Mike’s shoulder or rested his hand on his knee— or went to his apartment every month to watch a movie like they did when they were kids.

Mike had to live with that.

* * *

It wasn’t long before it started raining.

They finished the movie around eleven, and the original plan was for Will to bike home, but neither had accounted for the weather. 

The end credits rolled and thunder rumbled in the distance, pattering against Mike’s tiny windows.

“Raining pretty hard,” Mike commented.

“How insightful,” Will teased, standing up and stretching his back. He made his way over to the coat hanger. “I think I’ll head out.”

Mike blinked. “What? Will you can’t,” he almost laughed, “the weather outside is shit.”

Will hesitated as he slipped his jacket on. “Uh, I guess. I’ve been through worse, though.”

He got up from his seat, rushing to stand next to Will. “But— I mean, you can stay here tonight. It wouldn’t be very hospitable of me to make you bike home in the pouring rain.”

He stopped, his eyes briefly glancing over Mike and out his window. “Mike, seriously it’s fine. I’ve gotten wet before, I think I’ll survive.”

Mike could feel the embarrassment creep up his nape like a trail of goosebumps before he'd even said the words. God, he was so pathetic, begging for his best friend to stay in his apartment just a little longer. 

“Ple—” he cut himself off, “just for old time’s sake? We’ve done it before, remember? Like that time your apartment flooded and you had to stay with me for a while?”

A smile tugged on the edges of Will’s lips. “I… I have stuff tomorrow, Mike. I don’t even have clothes here—”

“You can borrow some of mine. It’s fine.”

Will opened his mouth to say something.

“ —and I have a spare toothbrush.”

He stopped. Mike thought that maybe he had him cornered for a second, that Will had no excuse but to stay.

“What about the… sleeping situation?”

Mike paused. He thought back to the week Will was forced to stay with him. He’d just gotten his apartment, he barely had any furniture. The two shared Mike’s twin bed out of desperation, keeping as many inches between them as possible whenever they slept, but every morning, they’d always ended up closer together.

“Same as before,” Mike muttered, “You… you’re fine with that, right?”

Mike was playing a dirty game. He forced Will into a position where he’d basically have to say yes. If he’d said no, then it would’ve called into question what about it made him uncomfortable. And knowing Will, he’d never go as far as to say sharing something with someone was an unpleasant experience for him.

Yeah, Mike was being a jerk, but he was desperate at this point. Maybe one day he’d look back on it and laugh, but right now, all he wanted was for Will to just stay.

“...yeah, it’s fine. I mean, it would’ve been weird if I wasn’t.”

“Right.”

The two stood in silence. Mike’s plan had worked.

“...so?”

Will spared another look to the window. He watched as the rain aggressively shot against the glass, and listened as thunder roared amidst the heavy sky. For once, it seemed like things were going Mike’s way.

“...sure.”

Mike didn’t try hard to hide his smile. “Cool, cool. I’ll uh, clean up a bit.”

He heard Will mutter a thanks as he walked to pick up their empty cups. Mike briefly gazed down at the couch, before he made his way to the sink.

The couch was a pull-out. Mike was a liar. He was such a dirty fucking liar, but he didn’t regret it. 

He’d loved that week he and Will had spent together. Being able to wake up and know that your best friend was right next to you. Cooking breakfast together when Will wasn’t busy and sitting at opposite ends of the couch. Neither of them had even needed to say anything. Just being there in the same room was enough.

Mike wished for anything to just have something like that happen again. He kept his door open to Will, offering it whenever he needed, but Will never took it. Mike had never stooped low enough to ask Will to stay until now, but it was worth it. He revelled in his victory as he made his bed in preparation for who was going to sleep there that night.

“You can wear these,” Mike said, pulling a basic band shirt and gray sweatpants from his drawer.

Will accepted them with a grateful smile and went to the bathroom to shower and change, leaving Mike in his room alone with nothing but his thoughts.

He listened to the shower's even stream of water, the sound of its rumble  adding to the noise of the still pouring rain.

It took Mike ten minutes to actually move again, and another ten more to finish changing.

When Will finally stepped back into the room, Mike had to force himself  from staring. He tried his best to act natural, sitting on the bed and messing around with the camera in his hands, reflecting over the photos he’d taken with Spider-Man the day before. As the meetings went on, the photos began to lessen each time. They had gradually started getting to know each other more rather than prioritizing the actual reason why they were there.

“Should I turn off the lights?” Will asked, gesturing to the switch.

“Oh— yeah, sorry,” Mike mumbled.

Will simply smiled back at him, and then the room was filled with darkness, only lit by the lamp on Mike’s nightstand.

He shuffled over as Will got in on the right side. They slotted in next to each other perfectly, even though the bed was only made for one.

It was uncomfortable and relieving at the same time, to finally close the gap that had lived snuggly between them, and be next to each other again. It was just like the times they’d stay up late, whispering and giggling to each other, reading comics, and inevitably being caught by Mike’s mom.

They both liked to pretend nothing had changed between them over the years. Not just through physical separation, but with the realization that their relationship wasn’t entirely normal.

The two boys in the group, who were only really close with each other. They both knew things about each  other that the rest of the party didn’t, not just secrets, but preferences and how they liked things done. Mike didn’t need to tell Will he preferred his water cold, or that he always liked having a blanket on the couch. And Will didn't need to tell Mike anything either. He had learned how to speak ‘Will’ years ago.

But that was part of the problem. Their closeness became awkward as they grew up— not helped much by the fact  they both came out as gay within the same year. The only two openly gay boys who were strangely attached to each other didn’t exactly spell ‘platonic.’

So they drifted apart. They became strangely quiet, suddenly aware of all of their actions and words.

When Will leaned over and switched off the lamp, the blanket of darkness felt like the weight of their friendship drifting and falling over them. A reminder of all that had happened before.

Pressed back to back, when ten years ago they would’ve been cuddled up in each other's arms. They should’ve been doing that now. Mike wanted that now. He still did, and he had for all the days they’d spent not doing that exact thing.

“Goodnight,” Mike whispered.

Silence replied.

For a second, he was worried that Will didn’t want to talk to him. Maybe he really had pushed things too far— but why would this have been a problem? They did it before, they’d done it for years.

“‘Night.”

Right. That was why.

They were adults now. They couldn’t hide behind the excuse of childhood naivety, both of them knew better now. The only reason why it had worked the week Will’s apartment had flooded was because he was forced to— all their other friends were occupied or busy. Mike had just been the only one available with open arms.

…Mike didn’t fall asleep easily that night. It almost felt like he could count the minutes as they passed.

It felt so much better to have him there, to just be close again. But it wasn’t the same. And it never would be.

Mike should’ve realized that long ago.

* * *

When Mike woke up, Will was gone. 

Not just gone from bed, but gone from the apartment entirely. 

Mike had gotten up and checked his clock. It read nine-forty-three. He’d slept in. Will usually got up around seven. He liked getting up early.

Mike went around his apartment searching for him, calling into his short hallway and checking the bathroom for any sign that Will had even been there. It wasn’t until he walked to his open kitchen did he see something waiting on the counter.

It was a plate covered in foil, with a blue sticky note attached to the top.

Sorry, had to leave early 

Made you breakfast! Sorry if I used 

up too much stuff from your fridge. 

I can pay you back.

Have a great day :)

- Will

Mike looked down in front of him, gently removing the aluminium to reveal an omelet with a couple strips of bacon and a pre-peeled orange.

It looks freshly cooked, like Mike had just managed to miss Will in the past ten minutes. He internally chastises himself as he takes a seat.

As he ate, he couldn’t  help but think about how this was all so unexplainably Will. He cooked Mike breakfast before he woke, and from what he could tell, cleaned up and even left a note behind like he was his mom. Will had even left him an orange, which would seem like such a small thing if it weren’t for the fact that Will constantly reminded Mike to eat healthy and made sure he was getting enough nutrients in his diet, which was probably needed since he ate nothing but white bread and coffee all day.

He’d nearly finished the plate in the next five minutes. It wasn’t spectacular, but being made by hand by Will who cared enough to even make Mike breakfast made it feel that much more special.

Mike jumped when he heard a knock on his window.

Spider-Man was back again. On a Saturday. Not a Tuesday or a Thursday— but outside of their designated schedule.

He all but sprinted over to the window, opening it in a rush  to the fire escape Spider-Man had been standing on.

“Hey!”

“How do you know where I live?”

Spider-Man seemed surprised, like he'd expected  a warmer welcome. “Hello to you too?”

Mike blinked back at him. “Answer my question.”

“So accusatory!” He feigned a gasp, “That’s no way to treat a guest inside your house. What happened to mi casa es su casa?”

Mike snorted, stepping away from the window and avoiding his eyes. “You’re not inside my house. And I never said that.”

“I am now,” and he was. In just a second, Spider-Man was now standing directly in front of him. Mike in fact did blink, and did miss it.

“I still want to know who gave you my address.”

Spider-Man shrugged, walking around the room. He never seemed to stop moving. “I just have my ways.”

Mike stood his ground. “And what do your ways mean? I can’t have people handing out where I live. Especially now that I’m involved with you.”

He stopped, and looked directly in Mike’s eyes. 

“You’re involved with me?”

“I—” Mike coughed, attempting to cover up his words. “Stop changing the subject.”

Spider-Man smiled— at least Mike thought he did. It was kind of hard to tell beneath the thick mask. “Fine, to answer your question…” He twiddled his fingers together. “Maybe I’ve seen you walk home before… a couple times…”

“You followed me home?”

“For research purposes!” He cried. “It was— after we’d scheduled our first meeting. So I’d know where to drop you off.”

Mike narrowed his eyes. “That’s not true. You left me on the roof of my apartment the same day we first talked about it.”

Spider-Man froze, caught in his lie. “Shit, I forgot about that part.”

He collapsed onto Mike’s couch, his head tilted up to the ceiling. “Okay, so maybe I happened to see you go home once or twice before that. But nothing crazy.”

Mike slightly laughed under his breath, going to take a seat next to Spider-Man.

He rolled his head over to look at Mike’s face. “Are you mad at me?” He muttered.

Mike huffed. “No, it’s…”

Spider-Man’s head perked up. “It’s…?”

He turned away, refusing to talk, instead suddenly invested in the random coasters he had scattered across on his table.

“Oh, okay. I see how it is,” He snickered and pulled the stray blanket on the couch over his lap.

“Damn, you’ve got a nice couch, Wheeler.”

Mike chuckled, unsure how to respond. “Thanks? That’s an odd compliment.”

Spider-Man shrugged again. “It’s comfy! I can appreciate a good couch.”

Mike laughed at the bizarre situation. “I guess. It’s a pull-out, so maybe it was designed that way since people were supposed to sleep on it.”

He stopped immediately after, like he’d just admitted to a crime. Even though Will wasn’t in the apartment anymore, he’d indirectly confessed to a lie, and now that the truth was hanging in the air, it still felt weird. 

Spider-Man seemed to have paused too, maybe sensing Mike’s uneasiness.

 “It’s a pull-out?”

“Uh, yeah? Why do you ask?” He played it off cool. 

He crossed his arms and sank further into the cushions. “Mmm... I don’t know. You just don’t seem like a couch-bed guy.”

Mike grinned and pushed his shoulder. “What even is that? A couch-bed guy?”

“A guy who sleeps on his couch that’s a bed! Jesus, Wheeler, where’d you go to school?”

The two of them laughed and Mike pushed him again. Spider-Man pushed him back. Then they were both tussling on his couch-bed like they were two kids again.

Spider-Man overpowered him (probably something with his super-strength— Mike could easily beat anyone in a wrestling match, totally), and he was pushed against the cushions, with the other man hovering slightly over him, half-standing on the floor.

“Do you surrender?” Spider-Man yelled, pinning Mike down.

“Okay!” Mike giggled (god, when did he do that?) and put up his palms in surrender. 

When the two of them calmed down and Spider-Man allowed him to sit up again, Mike asked the question.

“Why are you really here?”

Spider-Man settled onto the couch again, facing Mike from where he was sitting. He didn’t respond for a few seconds— like he was attempting to find the words in his head.

“...no reason, just wanted to… hang out.”

“Hang out?”

Now it seemed like Spider-Man wanted to do anything but look at Mike, he stood up and started pacing around the room, trying to find things to do.

“Yup. You never know when one of us might be busy. So… extra photoshoot? Today?” He stopped in his tracks, still not turning to meet eyes.

Mike didn’t have plans. And if he did, they were now cancelled. Unfortunately, New York’s personal superhero had priority.

“Sure. I-I think I’m available.”

Spider-Man lit up with his newfound confidence. “Cool! Cool, are you ready? I’ll take you there?”

Mike stood up, about to head to his bedroom to change once he remembered he was still in his pajamas. “Uh, yeah. Just give me second to change—”

He couldn’t finish his sentence before he was pulled from his own home and into the sky.

“Fuck— you couldn’t even let me get ready?” He shouted over the wind as they traveled through the city.

“Sorry!” Spider-Man yelled back. It was a short trip— before Mike knew it, they were settled onto another rooftop. It was one of the higher ones in the area, offering a large view to the bustling streets below it.

 “...but, uh, I think you look fine,” Spider-Man finished his sentence.

Mike’s ears turned pink, and he started to observe the rest of their surroundings. Next to where they’d landed, a flat white box rested just behind Spider-Man’s feet.

“Oh, yeah,” He seemed to remember the reason why he’d brought Mike here. 

Spider-Man stepped to the side, letting Mike see the box in full view.

“Pizza…?”

“Yeah! Yeah. Uh, hope that’s okay,” He crouched down, opening the slightly greasy lid to reveal a large thick-crust pizza.

“It’s uh— got all the stuff. Pepperoni, sausage, mushrooms, ‘cause er— you said you liked it one time. I think.”

Mike blinked, his gaze shifting from the food back to Spider-Man’s masked face. It’s weird seeing him so nervous. The snarky, confident superhero persona he'd adopted was a stark contrast to the shifty, almost awkward man currently in front of him. The poor guy looked like he was about to explode from pure anxiety. But why would he be anxious? They were friends. This was a normal thing friends did. You know what? Not even friends. Just co-workers. They only ever met for work and work only. Nothing more than that.

…But even still, that didn’t mean Mike couldn’t appreciate the gesture.

“That's— that’s great. I’m surprised you know that,” Mike let out a breathy chuckle, and took the seat next to the box, looking out over the city below. Over the time they’d spent together, Mike had just come to accept that Spider-Man mysteriously knew stuff about him, like where he lived, or in this case— his pizza preferences.

“Yeah! I do that sometimes.”

He sat down on the other side, the two parallel with each other as either took a slice from the box. 

Mike gazed down at the food in his hand. It was still slightly warm— maybe from baking in the New York sun. It took him a minute before he actually took a bite.

As the two ate, he looked over at Spider-Man’s mask. It curled and bunched over his face from where he’d pulled it up in order to eat. Mike didn’t know what he was searching for— because his skin was completely clear. No blemishes, scars, or moles.

An odd feeling began to sink in his stomach.

“I didn’t overstep with the pizza thing, right?” He seemed to notice Mike’s discomfort.

Mike shook his head with a nervous smile. “No, of course not. I-I’m having a really great time right now.”

The two sat in silence, as they watched the cars and civilians move below them like a colony of ants, allowing them to fill the space of silence. 

“...But?”

He sniffed Mike out immediately. There wasn’t any point in hiding it now.

“But… I’m worried, I guess.”

Spider-Man paused, the slice lingering just in front of his mouth before he set it down again. “Worried about what?”

Mike swallowed. “Uh, worried that… that I’m doing something wrong right now,” He muttered, absent mindedly wiping a spec of sauce from his own lips.

Spider-Man kept quiet, and patiently waited for Mike to continue.

 “Because… because I think there’s someone else at home who I’ve also been… going to special places and eating pizza with? I don’t know honestly— but it just feels weird…”

“Because right now you’re eating pizza with me.”

“Right.”

But that’s the thing. Mike wanted both of them. Fuck, not wanted, wants. He’s just greedy like that. He can’t help but be attracted to two different people, and now he’s led them both on.

“You’ve never told me about this guy before.”

“Yeah— yeah, I know. I didn’t expect for things with me and him to sort of… steer the same direction as this. Well— it still hasn’t. But it’s just… mixed signals I guess.”

Spider-Man remained quiet, before he broke the bubble of awkwardness, asking the question that floated in the air between both of them, the one that the two had been too afraid to address.

“Would… would you rather be eating pizza with this guy instead?”

No. Yes.

This feels like it’s supposed to be it. Like the scene in movies where the main character confesses his feelings to the captain of the cheerleading team, then they kiss and live happily ever after, carving their initials into a tree and promising to always be together. This is their scene. The one where Mike is supposed to say the three words that he can’t even bear to hear in his head. The one where they relive all their happy memories together from when they first met, to the time they realized they were in love with each other.

Mike should be happy right now. Spider-Man should be happy. Mike should be fucking overjoyed that he’s sitting on a rooftop sharing a pizza with a real goddamn superhero, that he even had the opportunity to know such an incredible guy.

…But he can’t.

He ruined it for himself. He ruined it for Spider-Man. And now, he probably ruined it for Will, too. All because Mike just had to have both.

It was his own fault.

“...I don’t know.”

The silence could’ve lasted years.

Noises from below keep going, the cars honking and chatter from regular citizens, none of which knew what was going on hundreds of feet above them.

They watched the sun begin to dip, and witnessed the sky as it became streaked with pale yellows, pinks, and oranges.

Mike could hear his voice perfectly in his head.

God, I need to paint this someday. 

Then why don’t you just do it now? Mike would respond.

And then he’d go on a long tangent about color theory, art school, and expensive paints, and Mike would sit there and absorb every single word he said. And if you asked him to repeat everything he’d said word-for-word, Mike would be able to.

Still, another thought lingered in the back of his head. If he was here with Mike now, would Mike be thinking about what Spider-Man would say instead?

He didn’t want to admit it, but the answer would probably be yes. Not a single thing in the world would be enough to satisfy him. Even with the man he loves, seated right next to him, as he waited for Mike to say something, Mike still felt a gaping hole shaped like the boy he’d met on the swings.

“What’s his name?”

“Stop it,” Mike replied almost instantly.

Spider-Man seemed taken aback.

“...Stop what?”

“That isn’t what this is.”

Mike stood up and walked a few feet from the ledge, Spider-Man quickly behind him.

“Mike—”

“Stop talking.”

Spider-Man listened to him. His mouth glued shut.

“You— you’re wrong. Wrong about— about this situation, about me, about everything.” Mike turned to face him. “You keep acting like this isn’t about you— like you’re not the whole reason why I feel so conflicted right now.”

“But… but you said—”

“I said ‘I don’t know!’ Because I don’t! I—” Mike can feel himself start to get teary-eyed. 

Fuck. This is so stupid.

“Because he’s just as important to me as you are. I-I can’t help feeling this way about— about both of you. And I want to pick you— I want to pick someone, but my brain is fucked up and I just can’t.”

He tried to suck a breath in.

“And— and I like you and I like him and I just… I don’t want to have to choose.”

Spider-Man stilled in front of him.

“Mike.”

“What,” he snapped back.

Spider-Man stepped closer to him.

“Trust me, okay? I need you to trust me.”

Mike gulped down any retort he had, instead watching Spider-Man get closer to him.

“Take off my mask.”

Mike nearly slapped him.

“Fuck— stop it.”

“Mike—”

“Stop trying to make this different. Stop trying to turn this into something. You know I’m fucked up— you know that I’m love with two different guys—”

“Mike.”

Spider-Man grabbed both his wrists, forcing Mike to look directly at him.

“You trust me. If you trust me, take off my mask. I’m not trying to turn this into anything. All I need is for you to trust me.”

Trust me. Trust me. Trust me.

“I don’t—”

“You can.”

He guided Mike’s trembling hands to his face, to the slip of fabric separating the mask from the suit, and waited for Mike to grasp it.

Mike slowly began to move his hands higher, and soon his hands abandoned Mike’s wrists.

Trust me.

He could see his lips.

No mole.

Mike hadn’t known what he’d hoped for. 

He’d seen it before, when they were eating before— but now it just felt so much more real. Like it was actually confirmation that Mike’s eyes hadn’t been lying to him, and it really wasn’t who he was hoping it would be.

“Keep going,” Spider-Man encouraged. 

He didn’t give Mike time to cry or freak out— just to focus on him and keep going.

It’s not Will. It’s not Will it’s not Will It’s not Will—

He held Mike’s wrists again. He could see Mike’s anxiety crawling up, the uneasiness, the worry— but he grounded him there.

His hands on Mike’s reminded him that he was still here. The world wasn’t ending and everything was going to be okay.

I can do this—

Mike brought it past the tip of his nose, and slowly higher and higher, until it reached just below his eyes.

Fuck. No I can’t.

“I— I don’t know—”

“Shut your eyes.”

Mike obeyed, tightening his eyelids until he could barely even see the sunlight through them anymore.

He passed control to the man in front of him. He almost let go, Mike’s hands barely a dead weight as he carried them.

He felt him bring his hands all the way up, all the way up past his eyes, all the way up until the mask completely slipped off.

A beat.

“You can look now.”

“I don’t…”

“You trust me, Mike. Look at me.”

Trust me.

He opened his eyes.

It was him.

It was really him. He was the one that comforted Mike in his darkest moments, the one who always knew everything about him, the one who had shared a bed with him multiple times—

Will was Spider-Man.

Mike started to cry.

Will pulled him into a hug —the tightest most comforting hug Mike had ever experienced—  and let him cry into his shoulder.

It was over. Mike didn’t have to worry. He didn’t have to choose. He didn’t have to worry and blame himself and cherry-pick what he did and didn’t do with whichever person. Because they were the same person. 

Mike pulled himself away from the hug, but didn’t let go of Will’s arms.

“Y-your mole…” Mike ran his finger over the spot on top of Will’s lip.

Will let out a quiet chuckle, he licked his thumb and swiped it over where Mike’s finger had been, and then he could see it again. The mole that rested just above the side of his lips, the one that Mike had always wanted to kiss.

Will smiled shyly. “Uh— Jane helped me out with that.”

Mike stared at him.

It was the boy he’d seen eighteen years ago on the swings, it was the boy he’d spent his whole childhood growing up with, it was the boy Mike traded all of his deepest most personal secrets with—

It was really Will.

There was only one question left on Mike’s mind.

“Can— Is it okay if I kiss you?”

Will’s eyes met his, the familiar hazel Mike had spent years staring at— remembering the way they caught in the sunlight and reflected spots of green and brown like they did just now.

Where Will would want to paint things, Mike would want to write them. He wanted to write about diving into the pools of not just green— but emerald and oak and olive and all the beautiful things Mike had such difficulty describing because he could never truly capture it on the page. He wanted to dip his fingers into the warm shades of brown and caramel, wrap himself in them and never leave.

All he needed was permission.

“Yeah.”

Barely a whisper, only a single word, but it was enough to change the rest of Mike’s life forever.

So Mike kissed him. And this time, the sounds of New York city behind them didn’t feel so loud.

As their lips pressed together, Mike felt all his worries wash away.

This time, Mike wouldn’t get mad at himself for wanting this.

This time, Mike wouldn't be upset for having this.

This time, Mike was free to love him.

He could love him and not feel ashamed.

And he could say it now. Free from all the webbing and knots around his throat and mouth. He could finally say it, and mean it, and not beat himself over it.

“I love you.”

* * *

Being Spider-Man’s boyfriend had its perks.

Having a free ride anywhere, anytime Mike wanted. Or frequently being taken to the most beautiful sights in New York nobody else could see but them, on top of skyscrapers and buildings.

But to Mike, the best part was knowing who lived underneath the mask.

His boyfriend— or as Mike should say, his fiancé, Will Byers.

The one who painted gorgeous murals on cafés and libraries, the one who Mike always caught himself writing about in his stories, but he couldn’t help himself. Will was everything Mike ever dreamed of. Even during the slightly harder times that came with Will’s job.

Take that day, for instance.

Will had crawled in through the window of their apartment, covered in scratches and blood, the material of his suit flaying at the edges. It was almost noon— Mike had been waiting for him to come home so they could leave the house.

“Holy shit— Will!” Mike rushed over as he laid himself on their couch.

“Sorry,” He wheezed as Mike pulled his mask off. Underneath, he was bruised all over his face, but still held a weak smile despite it.

Mike sighed, ignoring the frantic tremble of his hands and quickly went to the bathroom to retrieve their first-aid kit, which was rapidly  running low with how many times Will had come home looking like this. He could hardly imagine what Jane went through taking care of him over the years before he was handed to Mike.

He gently dabbed a wet towel against Will’s injuries, ignoring him when he stared at Mike’s lips.

“Are you mad at me?” He mumbled, half joking.

“No,” Mike muttered, before adding “...maybe. I just want you to be more careful.”

Will grinned back at him.

“Don’t look at me like that. You know we have plans today. You can’t keep being late.”

He seemed to brighten at the mention of plans that day, remembering the reason why they were heading out. “To celebrate your book tour,” he muttered softly.

Mike slowed, the towel pausing just against Will’s lips. “Yeah.”

Will leaned into his touch when Mike put his hand against his cheek to hold him steady.

“I’m still so proud of you for that.”

Will would say things like that a lot. Mike remembered the two of them together, bodies pressed against each other, huddled up in bed. Will would whisper things in his ear— words like I love you and I’m so glad I have you. It never failed to make Mike smile and press his face against his fiancé's neck. 

There was that one night— just a few days ago when Mike had finally told him the news that he would be going on a book tour. Will had tackled him and shoved him onto the bed, peppering kisses across his skin. Mike laughed and tried to push him away but Will had held him down with his weird spider-strength. He’d stopped, hovering just above him, and looked Mike right in the eyes. He’d leaned in, right next to his ear, and whispered ten words he’d never forget.

People are finally starting to love you like I do.

And then it replayed in his head over and over again. 

It reminded him of all the reasons why he loved Will in the first place. Even on days when he came home like this, bloody and bruised.

“I, uh— I got something for you, while I was out.”

He reached to his side— the one out of Mike’s view, and revealed a bundle of flowers he must’ve collected from around the city, stuck together with a splatter of webs. The long stalks of green led up to bursts of yellows, oranges, purples, and blues. While it was slightly crushed from Will’s travels, Mike still accepted them graciously into his hands.

“Will…”

He huffed as Mike grabbed an old vase and filled it with water. “I couldn’t wait to get home.”

Mike smiled as he set the new flowers into the cup and onto the table. “They’re great, Will. Thank you.” He crouched down on the floor next to Will’s place on the couch, their heads now level.

Will reaches his hand to the back of Mike’s neck, threading his fingers through his hair and pulling him into a kiss.

It felt like everything that happened to them pressed together all into one moment when their lips came into contact. From the day that they’d met on the swings, from when Will first approached him as Spider-Man and asked him to meet up, and from when they’d finally broke everything when they’d kissed for the first time on the rooftop. 

Will was everything Mike had ever wanted, and now he had it all for himself. There was nothing standing in the way anymore.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”