Chapter Text
“New photos showing Spider-Man saving a civilian and swinging away! Members of the public were at the scene cheering for him,” the news reporter's voice blared from the phone screen. “But what we really want to know is... who is under the mask?”
Kotaro looked over at the boy next to him—Kaoru—to see what had him so captivated. Kaoru stood frozen, his eyes glued to the screen, watching the video with an intense, burning passion. Suddenly, Kaoru snapped his head toward him, the video still looping. His eyes were literally sparkling.
“Dude! Have you seen this new masked hero going by Spider-Man?!” Kaoru’s face radiated pure awe.
“Uhh... y-yeah, I have...” Kotaro stammered. A cold bead of sweat began to form at the nape of his neck.
Kaoru’s entire face lit up. Before Kotaro could step back, Kaoru pounced forward, grabbing Kotaro’s shoulder tightly. He wouldn’t stop going on and on about how "cool and amazing" Spider-Man was. Kotaro realized instantly that Kaoru was completely, utterly obsessed with this new hero. Internally, Kotaro was experiencing a full-blown panic attack while his best friend gushed about Spider-Man right in his face.
Kotaro wasn’t the type to lie to his best friend. But what else could he do?
Two Weeks Ago
Kaoru was already lounging on Kotaro’s bed, lazily flipping through a new manga he had picked up the day before. Suddenly, he slammed the book shut and looked over at the desk. Kotaro was hyper-focused, adding the last couple of beats and instruments to a song he was almost finished mixing.
Before Kotaro even registered the mattress shifting, Kaoru was right next to him. He leaned over Kotaro's shoulder, studying the glowing digital audio workstation on the screen, and began to hum along with the track. To be honest, Kaoru's humming was completely offbeat, but Kotaro barely noticed. All he could focus on was how impossibly close Kaoru was. Kaoru's hot breath brushed directly against Kotaro's cheek, instantly painting his skin a rosy, burning red. With Kaoru invading his space like this, Kotaro couldn't concentrate on a single note.
Kaoru pulled away just as quickly, wandering over to fiddle with the scattered guitar picks on the dresser. He glanced back over his shoulder.
“Tamon. You work too hard,” Kaoru said casually. “You shouldn’t push yourself so much. Maybe you should take a break.”
Kotaro’s chest tightened. He became instantly flustered. Kaoru was worrying about him. Worrying about him. His thoughts scattered into a chaotic mess, and he desperately tried to act annoyed to hide his racing heart.
“What do you mean...? I’m doing just fine. You shouldn’t worry so much,” Kotaro grumbled, injecting a bit of attitude into his tone. But secretly, he was completely melting under the attention.
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A couple of hours passed, and the clock warned them it was getting late. Kotaro offered to walk Kaoru halfway home.
Outside, the night was thick and dark. The wind howled, whipping against Kotaro’s ears, and the trees rustled violently above them, their bare twigs stretching out like bony, reaching fingers. Kotaro began to feel a creeping sense of anxiety. A heavy silence fell between the two of them, growing thick and awkward.
But before Kotaro could force his mouth open to start a conversation, Kaoru abruptly stopped walking. They were standing beneath a flickering, dimly lit streetlamp. The overhead glare cast deep shadows, obscuring the details of Kaoru's face.
“I can walk from here,” Kaoru said, his tone unreadable. “You can head back.”
“Oh... are you sure?" Kotaro asked, quickly waving his hands in polite protest. "I could walk you a little further! I honestly don’t mind at all!”
Then, Kaoru smiled. It was a warm, soft expression that cut right through the dark, and Kotaro’s heart rate instantly began to climb.
Kaoru stood there for a quiet moment. “I already told you to stop working so hard, didn’t I?” he chuckled softly. “Go home and rest. You look exhausted. I am perfectly capable of walking myself home.” He pouted slightly, his voice dropping into a playful, sarcastic drawl.
Without waiting for a reply, Kaoru turned and walked away into the darkness, leaving Kotaro frozen on the pavement, desperately trying to keep his heart from popping straight out of his chest.
Kaoru’s figure was already swallowed up by the shadows of the street, but Kotaro was still standing there, smiling like an absolute idiot. Dazed and overwhelmed by how much Kaoru cared, Kotaro took a mindless step backward. His back pressed against the cold, vibrating metal of the streetlamp pole. Minutes ticked by, and he was still trapped in absolute awe of Kaoru.
He didn't notice the faint, neon-blue glow pulsing on the metal beam just above his head. He didn't see the strange, arachnid silhouette dropping down a silken thread, drawn to the heat of his skin.
Argh!!
A sudden, agonising shockwave shattered his daydream.
Kotaro's hand flew to the back of his neck, his fingers smacking against a tiny, brittle body that crunched beneath his palm. But it was too late. A sharp, searing pain—unlike anything he had ever felt—radiated outward from the nape of his neck. It felt like liquid fire poured straight into his veins.
His vision violently blurred. The streetlamp above him seemed to fracture into a thousand blinding shards of light. The wind in the trees suddenly sounded deafening, like a roaring engine inside his skull. Kotaro's knees buckled, his gasping breath fogging in the cold air as a strange, rhythmic thumping began to echo in his ears—matching the frantic, unnatural pounding of his newly altered heart.