Chapter Text
Flying like a bird
Riding the wind,
I looked up
At the lady shrouded in mystery
Will you notice me
If you've got a lot to do?
If everyone wants you like I do,
Will there be a chance for me to know you?
— Kamikazee, 'Narda' (English Translation)
The first time you saw him, you thought he was an angel clad in red and blue.
It was a terrible day up until that point. That morning, your coffee machine stopped working, which meant you had to choose between buying shitty overpriced coffee from down the street or average even-more-overpriced coffee from a pretentious cafe. Then, whilst commuting, there was a creep who insisted on sitting so close to you on the train. To top it all off, your university messed up something about your enrollment, which meant you couldn't enlist for the exact classes you wanted to take.
By noon, you were already ready to call it a day. Walking down the streets of New York, your feet were numb, your hair a mess, and your skincare already peeling under the hot sun. It was stuffy and noisy and, oh god, you wished you never tried so hard to move into this city.
What was it all for? What was so good about New York that you'd spent most of your teenage years dreaming of studying here?
This.
"Watch out!"
Your eyes widened, and you barely stepped away in time just for a masked person to shove you even further aside, purse in hand. You could hear the distressed shout of an old woman from a few feet away, and then you noticed everyone else was looking up, and so you looked up as well, only to be met with the voice that had called out to you.
Spider-man was flying— or, well, web-slinging— from buildings above, chasing the thief with practiced ease. His shadow was right behind the thief on the run, and you couldn't even blink at the sight. The scene only lasted mere seconds, but you would proceed to remember this day for the rest of your life. He plunged down from the sky, tackling the thief with an efficient swoop of his leg, sending the guy falling face-first into the rough pavement with a pained groan.
The vigilante webbed the guy unto the ground before snatching the purse from his hands and handing it back to the old woman. The woman sobbed as she thanked him. From the looks of it, she wasn't well-off, and being a senior citizen meant having a hard time defending herself. You couldn't see his face, but you were sure Spider-man was smiling as he gave the old lady a half-hug. He was happy to defend people who couldn't do it for themselves.
In that moment, something clicked into place in your heart. Seeing Spider-man talk enthusiastically with a grandma, seeing him reject the small amount of money she was offering him as a thanks, hearing the gleeful and young tilt of his voice as he waved goodbye, the free yell he let out as he webbed himself up and away back in the company of those tall skyscrapers...
Before you could make sense of it, the wind blew your hair as he swung away.
Was it the hope he instilled in passersby, or the happy crying of the defenseless whom he helped? Maybe it was the round spider logo on his broad back, friendly towards those he was protecting, or it could've been the hot New York sun, and the way he faced the heat with a casual flick of his wrist.
No, maybe it was everything. Maybe he was everything.
Your cheeks colored a red that resembled his suit. Your eyes gazed helplessly at the empty space in the sky where he used to be, your heart thudding in your ears.
You were in love.
"Post the final draft we made last night rebuking The Daily Bugle's latest libel against Spidey, and make sure you mention all that bastard Jameson's accounts so that he really sees it."
"Just posted now. Already racking in hundreds of views and likes," Alex was rapidly scrolling through her laptop, "Most comments so far are friendly. I'll delete any malicious slander."
"Good." You turned to the other girl also sat on your bed, "How about the chat channels on Instagram and the servers on Discord? Did you already post the announcements for our fan event next week? We need at least two hundred people to come."
"Based on the reacts on our attendance check on Instagram alone, at least four hundred people are coming. That's not accounting for the ones on Discord and Twitter." Gabrielle was typing on two separate phones at the same time, "The online tickets sold out two weeks ago. People want to know how many walk-in tickets we have on hand."
"Only a hundred and fifty. We can make more as long as it doesn't pass the maximum capacity of the park. I'll talk to the park manager, try to land a deal." You finally let out a huge breath, "At least we finished the billboard project congratulating him on his recovery."
Your two friends sighed breaths or relief as well.
The three of you were huge Spider-man fans. Four years ago, after falling in love with him on the street, you founded a Spider-man fan account that would soon grow into the world's most followed Spider-man account. Alex and Gabrielle were originally moderators who volunteered to help you out, but they quickly turned into your closest friends. In any case, your tight-knit little group bonded over the cause of supporting New York's friendly neighborhood vigilante, so the three of you were understandably shaken when, a few days ago, Spider-man was admitted to a hospital in critical condition.
Authorities said he'd gotten shot by an accidental misfire during a small tussle at the Department of Damage Control, and that's all the media knew. However, you, being you, had insider information that said Spider-man got shot trying to save a telepath girl that the DODC was illegally experimenting on. The insider even told you it was likely the Punisher who had shot Spider-man, and that it was the telepath girl who had kept him alive long enough for his body to heal past the critical state.
Of course, you didn't post this information to the public. You posted updates about Spider-man, but not any information that would invade his privacy. You knew he and the Punisher were still on good terms, so you deduced it must've been on accident that the guy shot him. You also knew that if authorities were covering up the part about the telepathic girl, and Spider-man himself had said nothing about it, then it was probably his wish to leave it alone.
Being New York's biggest Spider-man fan meant wanting to know more, wanting to get close, whilst simultaneously knowing that you had to keep your distance for the hero's benefit. And this was a role you took very seriously.
Maybe a little too seriously.
"I've to get going, guys," Alex started packing her bag up, the one covered in Spider-man pins and embroidered badges, "My boyfriend's coming to visit tonight."
Gabrielle hopped off your bed as well, stretching and yawning whilst putting on her red and blue sweater, "Me, too. I've got an early shift tomorrow."
They both then stared down at you. You were sat against pillows propped up against the wall next to your bed, dressed in official Spider-man pajamas, looking like you hadn't showered all day. Your blankets were Spider-man themed, your walls were covered in posters, and your shelves lined with Spider-man comic books and figurines.
"You don't have anything to do tomorrow?" Gabrielle cocked her head at you.
"I told you, I was gonna continue organizing the—"
"Something that isn't Spider-man related." She chuckled in amusement as your face fell.
You frowned, racking your brain for anything of that sort, "Uh, I've got... a commission to design a book cover, but it's not due for a few more days."
Alex shook her head in disapproval, "What about that boy I introduced you to? He was interested in you."
"Not so much after he saw my life-sized standee."
That was what prompted the three of you to stare at the Spider-man cardboard cut-out that stood at the corner of your room, and you could practically see the pitiful thoughts of your friends on their face.
Shit, you were single and barely employed. This was all you had going for you.
You groaned, standing up to push them out towards your studio apartment's front door, "Stop worrying about me! I'm happy and satisfied with my life!"
They only laughed as you did so, muttering iterations of 'fine, fine' and 'if you say so'.
"But seriously, you'll call us if you need anything, right?"
"I will, I will," you sent them an exasperated but grateful smile, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna take a shower and go back to my life, which is very fulfilling and filled with many diverse beautiful things, by the way."
"Sure." They both grinned at you.
After they said their last goodbyes and turned their heels, you finally shut the door.
You were doomed. That book cover commission? Due in a few hours. Your progress? Barely 25%. You'd gotten too sucked up in your Spidey-fan business again, and lost track of time and priorities.
Still, after internally cursing yourself out for doing this again, you eventually picked yourself back up and went back to your room. You closed all tabs related to your beloved hero, stretched your arms and cracked your neck, and began to work on the job that actually paid for your rent. Maybe later, you'd try to FaceTime some of your family and friends from your hometown. Hell, maybe you'd even reply to that old fling who tried to reconnect with you yesterday.
You had a life. Definitely.
But then, your Spidey Tracker app pinged with a notification that he was in your area, and all else was forgotten as you immediately stumbled towards your window with the hope that you'd catch a glimpse of him swinging by.
You were pissed off.
It's been a few days since the 'Everyone is Spider-man' event you and your friends organized at the park. It was a massive success. Tickets were sold out, the local bands that came to play were lovely, there were tons of merchants selling Spider-man merchandise, and you ended up raising almost twice the amount of money you expected to raise. Of course, all the profit was donated in Spider-man's name to a charity which provided scholarships for kids living in poorer neighborhoods.
That was all fine and dandy. That wasn't what you were upset about.
No, you were mad about the fact that, you'd been so busy handling the event and the charity that you didn't even know Spider-man stopped by that day. It was his first public appearance after taking weeks off to recover from his bullet wound, and it was at your event, and you weren't there. Fuck, he took pictures with everyone, including your friends, and you were ignorantly off doing logistics somewhere else!
"Shit, I'm sorry!"
You were so deep in your thoughts that you accidentally bumped into someone on the street, making you almost drop the laptop you were holding. Scowling, you looked up to see a pretty boy. Soft brown locks, warm brown eyes, and a gentle worried expression on his face. "Are you hurt?" His hand was on your arm, steadying you.
You shook your head, snapping yourself out of your raging thoughts, "No, I should be the one apologizing. I'm the one who bumped into you. Sorry."
"It's fine," he smiled, "As long as you're okay."
You reciprocated with a polite smile of your own before walking away. You never were one for stranger interactions.
In any case, you thought to yourself as you walked down the street, you really needed to find a way to meet Spider-man soon, if not just to make up for that irritating moment you missed him at your event. Sure, you'd seen him around rarely over the past couple years, and you had made it a very important virtue not to become an insane creepy stalker fan, but come on. A selfie with him would be nice. A small personal encounter would be appreciated. In fact, forget selfies or encounters, you'd be ecstatic with even just a glance.
So, you started thinking of ways you could possibly bump into your favorite hero.
You weren't going to go overboard. You were going to be totally cool about this.
You begun rooftop-hopping. Was that even a thing? Anyways, it was just you researching pretty rooftops in New York and visiting one each night. You already knew that it was kind of a bust from the start— you weren't dumb enough to visit dangerous places, but the thing was that Spider-man almost exclusively visited only dangerous places.
Then you hosted another Spider-man event, this time smaller. It was a fun little thing, a Spider-man lookalike contest. Despite you only printing a handful of posters and posting about it just once, a lot of people still showed up, dressed up in all sorts of Spidey suits. Among your favorites were a bedazzled Spidey, a working high-tech Mecha Spidey, and a Hatsune Miku Spidey. Still, that ended up also being a dumb idea, because even if Spider-man did show up, you'd have no way of knowing amongst all these lookalikes.
Finally, today, you decided to just get robbed.
How? Well, in a stroke of genius, you placed a comically large decoy wallet in your tiny open bag, and began walking through town.
You walked.
You walked.
And you walked.
You've been walking for hours.
"Fuck," you groaned to yourself as you sat down on an empty sidewalk. The sun had long set, and your shoes despite being made for running were starting to hurt. Your phone said you'd walked 35,000 steps today, which was honestly more than you'd walked this whole entire month.
Figuring it was safe enough since this particular alley was mostly empty, you took off your shoes for a minute just to stretch your feet. "All that, and I didn't even get robbed. Is New York actually safer than I give it credit for?" You thoughtlessly reached for your bag hanging on one shoulder, and paused.
You grabbed the bag properly and opened it all the way, searching every nook and cranny, turning it inside out, shaking it upside down.
"Holy shit."
The smack you gave your own face could be heard from the next town over.
Okay. So, you got robbed.
Granted, it was a decoy wallet, but it still really hurt your pride that you didn't even notice anyone snatching it from you. Spider-man didn't even save you from the thief like you planned would happen, which, to be fair, you didn't blame him at all since he was far from omnipresent. But to make matters worse, you were dead exhausted, all of your schemes left you feeling incredibly stupid, and you were sure you qualified to be called the world's biggest loser tonight.
You found yourself standing on one of the few rooftops you've visited before, leaning against the flimsy railing, breathing in the air that was semi-fresh, at least up here.
Your tired eyes scanned the sparkly city below, and your mind wandered.
Spider-man was probably out there, saving lives, making a difference. And you were here...
You shook those thoughts away and looked up, away from the city, into the dark night sky. The light pollution made it impossible to see any stars, but you could spot a red glowing dot. It was probably a satellite, but it made you smile, anyways. Red was your favorite color. Red was the color of hope. Red was Spidey.
Then you looked down again, further down the cityscape, directly down from the rooftop you were on. It must've been at least fifty stories high, because the people looked smaller than ants.
Was that how people looked like to Spider-man? Was that how you looked like to Spider-man?
Your arms reached down, as if trying to grasp the microscopic, moving people. Everyone was so small. You understood why Spider-man would want to protect the citizens of New York. From up here, they all looked so vulnerable. They all looked like they needed help, needed him.
You were one of them.
If you were one of those hundreds of people below, why did you ever delude yourself with the hope he'd ever glance your way? Why, even for a moment, did you think it was a good idea to bother him? Spider-man was Spider-man. He was a superhero, a brave soul who saved the Earth, with the kindness and responsibility that was almost inhuman.
You began to think more about him. He wasn't an alien. He wasn't a god. No, he was a normal boy. That was even better.
You reached further, on your tip-toes now, the railing digging into your abdomen.
He was amazing. He gave you hope whenever you felt like giving up. He kept on going, no matter how hard things got for him. That resilience was the real superpower you were trying to emulate. Hoping to thank him for restoring your faith in humanity, hoping to thank him for making you feel alive, hoping hoping hoping...
Spidey had the power of giving hope. And now, you hoped that, maybe, maybe, he'd save you if you fell off this building—
"What the fuck? No." You quickly pulled away from the railings, "Jesus Christ. Terrible intrusive thoughts. Absolutely not." A scoff of disbelief at your own mind escaped from your lips. "I must be really tired to be thinking like this. I should go home."
You stepped away, but then a broken piece of cement got caught in your heel, making you stumble forward against the railing. Your eyes widened, and you couldn't balance your body when the flimsy railing suddenly creaked loudly, the rusted metal breaking with a snap, and then before you could process anything you'd already lost your footing and slipped off the ledge.
Your breath stopped at your throat.
The cold air flapped your hair and clothes backwards.
You think you heard someone gasp from 100 feet below.
You were heading head-first into the pavement.
The small people grew bigger.
Fast. Fast. Fast.
You're going to die.
You closed your eyes tight, praying, praying for nothing exactly but everything at once, oh god oh god oh god, please, please, please, I'm not ready, I want to live, fuck, fuck, don't kill me yet, PLEASE—!
... Then your hair was flying the other direction. The wind was blowing from the same direction. A warm body was holding you tight, and for a second you thought this was what death felt like when a warm voice murmured into your hair.
"You're okay. You're okay." Spider-man's webslinger sounded a thwip as he swung to a nearby safer, shorter building, "It's okay." His one arm held you tighter.
You couldn't speak. You could only cling to him, your eyes still closed tight, not daring to look. You couldn't even whimper.
It felt like forever until he carefully landed on a much lower rooftop, but it was probably just a few seconds. He still held you because you held him and, shit, were you always shaking this bad?
"Hey, hey. You're in shock. Look at me." He gently moved your face away from his shoulder just enough so that when you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was those black and white lenses. "You must've slipped and fell. But it's alright. You're alright. You're alive, okay?" His words were slow, mellow.
You didn't even know if you managed a nod whilst he guided you to sit down against one of the sheds on that rooftop. He then propped up your legs slightly while he asked, "Can I— Can I hold you? You're trembling."
And you must've nodded this time, because in the next moment he was sitting next to you, an arm around your shoulder, slotting you against his side perfectly. "I'm sorry. I'm supposed to keep you warm, but I don't have a blanket with me."
In the back of your mind, you wanted to reply so badly. But what were you supposed to say? The words were stuck in your throat.
He seemed to understand, because he just snuggled up even more. "Do you feel like throwing up? Um, are you hurting anywhere?"
"No..." Finally, you managed to mutter out.
"Okay. That's good. Deep breaths. Breathe with me, yeah? In..."
You inhaled with him.
"... And out."
You both exhaled.
"In... and out."
He must've repeated this at least twenty times before you started feeling like you were in your own body again.
As soon as you could feel your skin again, as soon as you were aware of the body warmth he was generously sharing, you were able to utter the words you so badly wanted to tell him for so long.
"Thank you, Spider-man."
You couldn't see under his mask, but it moved in a way that made you know he was smiling. "You're welcome."