Archive of Our Own

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

Peter Parker is an incredibly lonely guy.

He stalks your Instagram profile and watches your stories, seeing you live your pretty life in libraries and parks. You’re so happy, and you’re completely out of danger. Away from him.

He misses you, so deeply, every day. He knows he’s staying away from you for a reason, but God does he hate himself for it. He keeps hoping that one day you’ll just figure it out like you did before. That you’ll just remember him and run into his arms. But it doesn’t work like that.

He goes through his days swinging through streets and curving through crowds of people cheering his name, but nobody knows who he is when the mask is off.

When he’s home, he doesn’t have a person to hug him and talk him through the day he’s had. He could have one if he wanted to, if he really wanted to. There are neighbours and people he sees on the street every day, but none of them are you, so why should he even bother?

Sometimes he catches himself opening your profile without even thinking about it. He knows your username by heart. Knows which stories you tend to post late at night, which books you've been reading, which café you seem to like most. 

He tells himself he's only checking because he wants to know you're safe, because if something happened to you and he didn't know, he wouldn't be able to forgive himself.

But you're safe.

That's the point.

You're living a life that doesn't need him in it.

And Peter hates how much that hurts.

He'll watch a story of you laughing with someone he doesn't recognize and pause the video before it disappears. He'll stare at the screen for a few seconds too long, wondering what you're talking about, whether you're happy, whether you ever think about him at all.

Then he'll lock his phone and throw it onto his bed.

Five minutes later, he'll pick it up again.

Maybe that's the worst part.

He isn't Spider-Man when he's looking at your profile. He's just Peter. A lonely boy sitting in a quiet apartment, desperately missing someone who doesn't even remember that he exists.

You’re lonely too.

You sit alone in libraries and parks, wondering how you ever made it through high school without making a single friend.

Seriously, it’s like there’s this part of you that’s been taken away, something supposed to be there that’s just missing, but you don’t know what it is.

Sure, people talk to you, but you’re never the first person to be invited to the party, you’re never hanging out in people’s houses or waking up to texts sent in the middle of the night.

You wander through the world feeling disconnected and unseen, waiting for story views to pop up, but it’s just some faceless bot account following you.

You run to your favourite cafe, hoping for someone to sweep you off your feet, hoping to meet someone who’ll finally find you. But you meet no one.

You sit by the window with your coffee, watching couples pass by outside, wondering what it must feel like to have someone who actually notices when you’re gone. Someone who would look at their phone and wonder why you haven't replied yet. Someone who would save a seat for you without having to ask.

Your phone stays stubbornly quiet.

Sometimes you post little pieces of your life just to see if anyone notices. A picture of your coffee. A book you're reading. The sunset outside your bedroom window. You tell yourself you don't care about the views, but you check anyway. And when you see that one unfamiliar account has watched every single story, you find yourself wondering who they are.

You start imagining ridiculous possibilities.

Maybe it's someone from school.

Maybe it's someone you've passed on the street.

Maybe it's someone who has noticed you without you noticing them.

Maybe it’s just a bot.

The thought makes your chest ache.

Because that's all you really want.

To be noticed.

To be found.

You don't know that somewhere across the city, someone is watching those same stories.

Someone who remembers you.

Someone who has been desperately trying to stay away.

And while you sit alone in your favourite cafe, quietly wishing that somebody would finally find you, Peter Parker is sitting alone in his apartment, looking at your face on his phone and wishing he could be that person.

But you do have one person. 

You have Spider-man.

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

You remember the first time you met—not counting passing glances on school field trips, where you were both just two people in a crowd who happened to look at each other for a second too long.

You had been walking home late at night.

Probably not the most appealing circumstance for a person like you to be in, but nonetheless, you walked.

The streets were quiet, the kind of quiet that made every little sound seem louder than it actually was. Your shoes against the pavement. The occasional car passing by. The rustling of trees whenever the wind picked up.

Of course you knew there was a man behind you, but you prayed to the universe that you weren’t in danger.

You prayed it was just a normal passerby who was trying to overtake you.

He creeped closer and closer.

You didn't turn around.

You just kept walking, pretending you hadn't noticed him while calculating in your head if you had enough time to dial 911 without him noticing.

Your phone was already in your hand.

Your thumb hovered over the screen.

You were trying to convince yourself that you were being paranoid.

Then you heard footsteps speed up behind you.

Your heart dropped.

You turned your head—

And suddenly, a figure swung down from the darkness.

Spider-Man grabbed the man behind you before he could get any closer. The man's pocket knife clattered onto the pavement, spinning underneath the yellow light of a streetlamp.

You barely had time to process what was happening before Spider-Man used the streetlight as leverage, swung the man around and webbed him against the nearest wall.

You stood completely frozen.

Your hands were shaking.

Your eyes were fixed on the knife lying several feet away.

You nearly cried when you realized what could've happened to you.

Spider-Man dusted himself off before turning toward you.

For a second, he just looked at you.

Then he approached.

“Hey…”

He said it like he had so much more on his mind.

“You okay?”

You speechlessly nodded, covering your mouth with your hand.

“Spider-Man.” Your voice came out embarrassingly small. “You saved my life.”

Spider-Man gave a soft laugh.

“Kind of my job.”

You looked over his shoulder at the man still struggling against the wall.

Then back at him.

“Why would you save me?” you asked, honestly amazed. “I’m just an anybody on the street at 10 PM. I’m like, one in a million other people out there.”

Spider-Man's expression changed.

Not dramatically.

Just enough for you to notice.

He seemed almost sad that you'd said it.

“Don't say that.”

He stepped a little closer.

“You're not anybody. You're somebody.”

Your throat tightened.

“And if I could find you and save you, then maybe one day you could find me.”

He held out his hand.

“Deal?”

For a moment, you just stared at it.

His red-and-blue glove was extended toward you, waiting.

Behind him, the man suddenly started shouting.

Spider-Man glanced over his shoulder.

“Oh, come on.”

He shot a web over the man's mouth.

The screaming stopped.

“Much better.”

Then he looked back at you and kept his hand in the air like nothing had happened.

You couldn't help it.

You laughed.

It was shaky and breathless, but it was the first genuine laugh you'd managed all night.

You reached for his hand.

Your heart was beating fast, from the fear and from the strange high of being seen.

Actually seen.

Not as some random person walking home.

Not as another face in a crowd.

Somebody.

You shook his hand quickly.

“I promise.”

Spider-Man tilted his head.

“I'll find you.”

For a second, he didn't say anything.

Then you could've sworn you saw his lips behind the mask shift into an upward curve.

“Good.”

He released your hand.

Then, with a ridiculously cool little salute, he turned toward the street.

You watched as he shot a web into the distance.

He looked back at you one last time.

And then he swung away.

You stood there for several seconds after he'd disappeared.

The city suddenly felt different.

The same streets.

The same streetlights.

The same buildings you'd walked past a hundred times before.

But somehow, they didn't feel quite as lonely anymore.

You looked down at your hand.

The one he'd shaken.

You smiled.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like somebody might actually remember you.

You didn't know it yet, but you were going to remember him.

Every detail.

The sound of his voice.

The way he tilted his head when he listened.

The stupid little salute before he left.

The exact words he'd said to you.

You're somebody.

You would replay them in your head on lonely nights.

You would think about them whenever you felt invisible.

You would eventually search for him.

And eventually, you would make him a promise you didn't even realize you were making that night:

You were going to find him.

What you didn't know was that, somewhere above the city, Spider-Man had stopped on a rooftop.

He looked back at the street below.

At you.

He couldn't hear what you were saying from this distance.

But he could see the way you were still looking in the direction he'd disappeared.

And for reasons he couldn't quite explain, he stayed there a little longer.

Just to make sure you got home safely.

Would you find him?

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

The obsession started slowly.

It started as just checking social media to see if anyone had caught that moment between you and Spider-Man. Then following his hashtag to get more photos of him. Watching news reports to see just how much crime he could stop in a day, checking news articles to make sure everyone was being nice about him.

Maybe getting curious and stumbling across subreddits trying to discover his identity.

Soon enough, you were a Spider-Man fanatic.

You had a notification on your phone for every mention of Spider-Man in the media, and your entire feed was just pictures of him caught by civilians. But it wasn't enough. They were always far away and blurry.

You needed to get closer.

That's when you discovered peterpictures.

Peter figured he could probably start making some money if he got successful enough posting pictures of Spider-Man. So he started taking pictures during his fights and his free-time swings.

Spider-Man doing backflips.

Holding an ice cream.

Sitting by the sunset.

These photos all went viral, and Peter started earning a decent amount from journalists asking to use his pictures in their articles.

He gained followers pretty quickly, everyone amazed at how high-quality and personal his pictures were, how he seemed to capture moments nobody else even noticed.

Ggcrazy: he’s just like me fr

Danieldragon: this shot is INSANE HELLO???

Sticksandstones: tuff af

There was one account he noticed.

One account that seemed to be the first to all of his posts, constantly commenting and complimenting his work.

Spideytracker: how did you get this shot? 1 month ago

Spideytracker: He looks incredible here. 3 weeks ago

Spideytracker: THE LIGHTING! THE COMPOSITION! 2 weeks ago

Spideytracker: You are spideynation’s savior btw. 1 week ago

He thought it was just a normal Spider-Man fan account who liked his pictures. He didn't really think much of it.

Until they messaged him.

 spideytracker: Hi! I absolutely love your photos, do you think I could reupload this photo to my account? With credits of course!

It wasn't the first time he had received this type of request, but he usually said no since they never offered compensation. He was happy they were at least asking, since most people usually just took his photos without permission and removed the watermark.

 peterpictures: hey there! I’d be fine with that but I usually require a payment to use my photos?

 spideytracker: I expected that! How much do you need?

 peterpictures: Oh! Uh maybe like $10-15?

 spideytracker: [Sent $20]

Peter stared at his screen in shock.

 peterpictures: holy cow, thank you so much!

 spideytracker: no problem! I love your work!

Peter smiled.

There was something weirdly nice about the interaction.

Peter found himself clicking on their profile.

 spideytracker

The profile picture was a little cartoon Spider-Man.

Their bio read: catching the city's favorite neighborhood menace 🕷️

He laughed.

Then he started scrolling.

And scrolling.

And scrolling.

The account wasn't just reposting Spider-Man photographs.

There were maps.

Screenshots of news reports.

Timelines of sightings.

Locations marked with little red dots.

Posts comparing different Spider-Man sightings and trying to determine whether he had a predictable patrol route.

Peter's smile slowly disappeared.

Oh.

This wasn't a casual fan account.

This person was serious.

He clicked on one of their posts.

 spideytracker: okay so we KNOW he was spotted in Queens at 8:42, but someone caught him in Midtown at 8:57. Either he can travel way faster than we thought or there's something we're missing.

Peter stared at the screen.

They're actually pretty good.

He clicked another.

Then another.

There were hundreds.

They'd even started documenting the types of crimes Spider-Man responded to most frequently.

Peter couldn't help himself.

He sent a message.

 peterpictures: okay this is actually kind of insane lol

The typing bubble appeared almost immediately.

 spideytracker: WHAT IS

 peterpictures: your account

 spideytracker: OH 😭

 peterpictures: how long have you been doing this?

There was a pause.

 spideytracker: since i saw him for the first time

Peter's fingers stopped over the keyboard.

 peterpictures: like... how long?

 spideytracker: a few months…

Peter leaned back against his pillow.

A few months.

He looked at the account again.

There was something almost familiar about the way they talked.

Something he couldn't quite place.

 peterpictures: you ever actually met him?

The typing bubble appeared.

Disappeared.

Appeared again.

 spideytracker: once

 peterpictures: no way

 spideytracker: he saved me

Peter stared at that message.

His stomach dropped.

Peter looked back at the account.

Then at the little cartoon Spider-Man profile picture.

Then back at the message.

 peterpictures: what did he say to you?

The response came quickly.

 spideytracker: that's personal 😭

Peter laughed quietly.

Fair enough.

 peterpictures: okay okay. sorry lol

 spideytracker: he told me i was somebody

Peter stopped laughing.

His eyes stayed fixed on the screen.

There was no way.

It had to be a coincidence.

There were thousands of people Spider-Man had saved.

Millions, probably.

But still...

He clicked back onto the profile.

He looked at the photographs.

Then the maps.

Oh god, you even have a website dedicated to tracking his movements through social media posts.

He found himself wondering what you looked like.

Not because he was trying to uncover your identity.

Just curiosity.

That's what he told himself.

He clicked onto the account's tagged posts.

Nothing.

He checked the followers.

Nothing.

He checked the profile picture again.

Nothing.

Peter eventually put his phone down.

Across the city, you were doing exactly the same thing.

You had discovered  peterpictures several weeks ago and had become increasingly fascinated by the mysterious photographer behind it.

Nobody seemed to know who he was.

He never posted pictures of himself.

Never showed his face.

But somehow he was always there.

Always close enough to Spider-Man to capture photographs nobody else could.

You started wondering how.

You opened his profile again.

Then his tagged posts.

Then his comments.

You started noticing patterns.

He seemed to know exactly where Spider-Man would be.

Almost like he wasn't following Spider-Man at all.

Almost like he knew where Spider-Man was going to be before Spider-Man even arrived.

You smiled at the thought.

Then opened your messages.

 spideytracker: okay i have a question

Peter's phone buzzed.

He picked it up immediately.

 peterpictures: shoot

You typed:

 spideytracker: how do you always get these pictures before everyone else?

Peter stared at the message.

For the first time, he wondered if maybe he'd made a mistake.

Then he smiled.

 peterpictures: maybe i'm just really good at my job ;)

You rolled your eyes at your screen.

 spideytracker: suspicious.

Peter laughed.

 peterpictures: paranoid.

 peterpictures: I hang upside down from street lights and climb walls to get some of my shots.

 spideytracker: taking inspiration from the man himself I see? I should learn from you.

Peter smiled at his phone, he had just found the person he'd been looking for.

He just didn't know it yet.ִ

 ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

A few days later, Peter started getting comments on his pictures.

Clydejail: you stole this pic from  spideytracker.

He was confused until he clicked on your profile again.

He had posted a picture of Spider-Man perched on top of a streetlight, one knee tucked beneath him as he looked out over the city.

And at the very top of your profile was a nearly identical one.

It wasn't the same photo. Peter knew that immediately.

The angle was different. The lighting was slightly different. The composition wasn't how he would have shot it at all.

But that was exactly what made it so strange.

It was scarily close.

Close enough that whoever had taken it had to have been there.

Right there.

With him.

Peter zoomed in on the photograph, his eyebrows slowly furrowing.

He could remember that moment.

He remembered where he'd been sitting. Which direction he'd been looking. The street he'd been watching.

There shouldn't have been anyone else close enough to get that shot.

He checked the timestamp.

It had been taken only a few minutes before his own.

Peter stared at the screen.

Who are you?

He immediately clicked back onto your messages.

 peterpictures: How did you get this photo omg???

The typing bubble appeared almost instantly.

Peter waited.

Then your reply appeared.

 spideytracker: Same way you're getting them, peter ;)

Peter stared at the message.

His stomach flipped.

He looked back at the photograph.

Then at your profile.

Then at the photograph again.

You weren't just a fan.

You were following him.

And somehow, you'd gotten close enough to photograph Spider-Man without him ever noticing.

Peter couldn't help the smile creeping onto his face.

For the first time, he wasn't wondering how you were getting the pictures.

He was wondering who you were.

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙
 spideytracker just dm’ed you!

Spideytracker: This pic is incredible peter!!!

Peterpictures: oh, so we’re on a first name basis now?

Spideytracker: would you rather I call you by your full name user peterpictures?

Peterpictures: well, if we’re being fair, you need to give me your name

Spideytracker: I’ll give you my name when spider-man takes off his mask.

Peterpictures: he takes off his mask everyday

Spideytracker: Then I'll give you my name when you get a picture of it.

Peterpictures: so basically never?

Spideytracker: exactly

Peterpictures: wow. mysterious.

Spideytracker: says the guy who refuses to show his face on his account

Peterpictures: privacy is important

Spideytracker: mhm. sure.

Peterpictures: you seem suspiciously interested in my identity

Spideytracker: I’m a detective.

Peterpictures: you run a spider-man fan account

Spideytracker: detective.

Peterpictures: fan.

Spideytracker: detective.

Peterpictures: fan.

Spideytracker: okay maybe both.

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

 peterpictures just dm’ed you!

Peterpictures: Okay, you have to be putting yourself in danger to get this photo.

Spideytracker: well the van wasn’t moving when i was standing on top of it

Peterpictures: ???

Spideytracker: Oh wow, coming from you?

Peterpictures: I don’t do what you do.

Spideytracker: Ok well how did I start?

Peterpictures: you might be taking it too far

Spideytracker: its all for the photo baybeee

Peterpictures: stay safe out there, no man is worth you getting hurt

Spideytracker: that sounded weirdly sincere

Peterpictures: because I’m being sincere

Spideytracker: awwww peterpictures cares about me 🥺

Peterpictures: I care about you staying alive

Spideytracker: same thing

Peterpictures: absolutely not the same thing

Spideytracker: whatever you say, peter

Peterpictures: please don't call me that

Spideytracker: why?

Peterpictures: makes me feel like you actually know me

Spideytracker: maybe I want to

Peter stares at the message for a few seconds.

Peterpictures: you don't even know my last name

Spideytracker: give me time and i’ll find it

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

 spideytracker just dm’ed you!

Spideytracker: okay, you have to be stalking spider-man, how the hell do you always know where he is

Peterpictures: just. Using your website.

Spideytracker: oh really? Glad to be of good use, but you’re my competition now.

Peterpictures: competition? Can’t be both be his biggest fan?

Spideytracker: No, i need to be the president of his fanclub so i get to meet him thank you very much.

Peterpictures: you’re insane.

Spideytracker: no i’m his no1 fan.

Peterpictures: pretty sure I am

Spideytracker: you literally take pictures of him for money

Peterpictures: AND?

Spideytracker: capitalism has ruined you

Peterpictures: you're literally showing all of spider-man’s sighting information on a website

Spideytracker: that's different

Peterpictures: how?

Spideytracker: I’m doing it for the love of the game

Peterpictures: you're obsessed with him

Spideytracker: says the man with 4,000 pictures of him

Peterpictures: they're called a portfolio

Spideytracker: obsessed.

Peterpictures: fan.

Spideytracker: obsessed.

Peterpictures: okay maybe a little.

Spideytracker: KNEW IT.

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

 peterpictures just dm’d you!

Peterpictures: okay, how are YOU getting these photos, cause i never see you at the scene

Spideytracker: I’m just that good. And i never see you at the scene of the crime either

Peterpictures: i wear camouflage?

Spideytracker: no wonder.

Peterpictures: what does that even mean

Spideytracker: it means you're apparently invisible

Peterpictures: maybe I'm just fast

Spideytracker: spider-man is fast too

Peterpictures: maybe I have good timing

Spideytracker: suspiciously good timing

Peterpictures: jealous?

Spideytracker: terrified that you're going to steal my job

Peterpictures: I thought you were the president of his fanclub

Spideytracker: I contain multitudes

Peterpictures: okay, I'll give you that.

Spideytracker: you should be honored. I don't compliment people easily.

Peterpictures: you've complimented my photos like 47 times

Spideytracker: your photos don't count

Peterpictures: oh?

Spideytracker: you're different

Peter pauses.

Peterpictures: different how?

Spideytracker: don't get excited

Peterpictures: too late

Spideytracker: your pictures make him look like a person

Peter looks at the message for a long moment.

Peterpictures: what do you mean?

Spideytracker: everyone else takes pictures of spider-man doing cool superhero stuff. You take pictures of him when he's just... existing.

Spideytracker: like the ice cream one.

Spideytracker: or the sunset one.

Spideytracker: he looks happy in those.

Peter doesn't respond immediately.

Because nobody has ever said that about his pictures before.

Peterpictures: maybe I just think he's more than the mask

Spideytracker: maybe that's why I like your pictures.

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

 peterpictures just dm’ed you! 

Peterpictures: we have to meet up one day.

Spideytracker: bet. Next spider sighting i’ll see you there

Peterpictures: actually?

Spideytracker: actually

Peterpictures: how will I know it's you?

Spideytracker: I'll be the person taking pictures of spider-man.

Peterpictures: that narrows it down to approximately everyone in New York

Spideytracker: okay, I'll be holding a camera.

Peterpictures: incredible clue

Spideytracker: shut up 😭

Peterpictures: you still haven't told me your name

Spideytracker: neither have you

Peterpictures: well you know mine

Spideytracker: Peter isn't your full name

Peterpictures: maybe it is

Spideytracker: nobody's legal name is Peterpictures

Peterpictures: you don't know that

Spideytracker: I hate you

Peterpictures: no you don't

Spideytracker: unfortunately, I don't

Peterpictures: see you at the next sighting, detective

Spideytracker: see you there, photographer

Peterpictures: stay safe, okay?

Spideytracker: you too.

Peterpictures: I mean it.

Spideytracker: ...okay.

Spideytracker: you too, Peter.

Peter stares at the screen.

He doesn't know why that last message feels different.

He doesn't know why he suddenly wants to hear you say his name out loud.

And he definitely doesn't know why he's already planning exactly which Spider-Man sighting he's going to make sure you attend.

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

Peter was grabbing some flowers for Aunt May, some chrysanthemums this time.

He was picking through the bouquet options at the convenience store when you walked in.

His heart nearly stopped.

You looked even better than you did in your Instagram stories, like there was this air of effortless beauty to you, despite how stressed you looked and how much effort you put into your appearance.

You grabbed a case of beer, analyzing it carefully, before shrugging and heading to the cashier.

“ID?”

You carefully handed over your ID and tapped your fingers against the counter as she rang you up.

“Thank you so much,” you said as you exited the store.

Peter's eyes followed you carefully.

He paid for his flowers and followed you out the door.

He kept his distance as you moved through the crowds, resisting the instinct to get closer whenever someone came too near you. He followed you into the subway and watched you chew a piece of gum, holding onto the pole so he wouldn't accidentally drift too close.

Eventually, you disappeared down the street and into your apartment building.

Peter followed.

He told himself he just wanted to know that you were safe.

He told himself that he'd leave afterward.

Instead, he found himself inside your apartment.

“This obsession you have with Spider-Man is getting a bit creepy,” someone commented as they left your bedroom.

You rolled your eyes, looking slightly annoyed.

“Hey, he saved my life.”

Peter makes his way through the crowd of people and spots you with a cup in your hand.

He doesn't know how he's supposed to talk to you, so he just walks around the party, past the piles of bottles and groups of chatty young adults.

He eventually finds himself in a quiet spot.

Your bedroom.

He didn't even know how he got in here, but he immediately knew where he was.

Not because of the bed or the pictures scattered across the walls.

Because it smelled like you.

It looked like you.

Photos from high school and college were stuck onto the walls. Peeling posters of your favorite movies and bands covered the spaces between them. Your favorite teenage books sat in uneven stacks, apparently books you'd carried with you wherever you'd gone.

Peter was so busy admiring the pure you-ness of the room—how much you hadn't changed since he'd lost you—that he almost didn't notice the Spider-Man board hanging above your desk.

Spider-Man photographs.

Newspaper pictures of locations where he'd been spotted.

Crime reports.

Reddit posts theorizing about his identity.

Possible suspects.

Thumbtacks.

String connecting different sightings.

Holy shit.

You're a freak.

A freak... for Spider-Man?

He'd thought he was obsessed.

“Oh God.”

Your voice makes him immediately turn around.

Your face is already burning with embarrassment.

“Oh, God. I'm sorry. I swear I'm not a freak.”

“Hey, hey, I'm not judging!” he assures you. “I'm... admiring the information you have here.”

“No, no, it's fine. I acknowledge it's weird.”

You take a step closer.

“I’m just… he saw me. And I never take it for granted that he saw a person like me and thought I was worth saving.”

Peter's breath catches.

You introduce yourself and give him a small wave.

“Uh, Peter Parker. You probably don't know me.”

He shakes your hand, holding on just a little too tightly before realizing what he's doing and letting go.

You fix some of the papers on the board and turn back toward him.

“I just... he saved my life and I have nothing better to do, I guess.”

You laugh awkwardly.

“I guess... I'm obsessed with him.”

That's when it clicks.

“You're… Spideytracker, aren't you?”

Your face lights up.

Your gaze immediately falls to the camera hanging around his neck.

“Peter... Pictures!”

You gasp.

“Oh my God. The living legend himself!”

He scratches the back of his neck.

“Ah, that title goes to Spider-Man. I'm just some nobody who takes pictures.”

You visibly frown at that statement.

“Hey, you're not a nobody. You're a somebody, and somebody I really admire, as a matter of fact.”

With those familiar words, memories rush through Peter's head.

That night.

The street.

The man who followed you.

Your terrified face.

The promise you'd made.

I'll find you.

He has to stop himself from staring.

“You remember that?” he accidentally says.

You look at him.

“Remember what?”

Peter's stomach drops.

“The... somebody thing.”

“Oh.”

You smile.

“Those are the words Spider-Man told me when he saved me. I can't get them out of my head.”

You say it so honestly that it touches his heart.

You sit on your bed, still staring at the photographs of Spider-Man covering your wall.

Peter watches you.

Could this be the start of you remembering him?

Don't get your hopes too high, Peter.

You just like Spider-Man.

But you also like him.

Peter sits beside you.

“I think your board is really cool.”

Your face morphs into a grin.

“Wanna hear my theories for who Spider-Man could be?”

His eyes widen.

He coughs, trying to disguise the reaction.

“Uh—y-yeah. Sure!”

You pull the board off the wall and reveal two photographs.

“This fifteen-year-old kid named Miles Morales and—”

“Flash Thompson?”

You burst out laughing.

“Believe me, I know it's crazy, but some of my high school classmates have crazy convincing theories.”

Peter snorts.

“Flash?”

“I know.”

“You think Flash Thompson is Spider-Man?”

“I said it was a theory!”

“That's a terrible theory.”

“You don't know that.”

“I do.”

“How?”

Peter freezes.

“Uh... vibes.”

You narrow your eyes at him.

“That's suspicious.”

“I'm just saying.”

You laugh and put the board back against the wall.

Peter watches you.

He could tell you.

He could tell you right now.

But then you'd know.

And if you knew, everything would change.

Instead, he asks:

“Why do you wanna find out who Spider-Man is? Couldn't that be kinda... dangerous?”

You give him a soft smile.

“I just want to find the guy and tell him thank you.”

You glance toward the photographs.

“I would never expose his identity. I just... I just want to know.”

“Why don't you—”

You interrupt him.

“I don't want to put myself in danger and cause him more trouble than he needs. And talking to the mask just isn't the same.”

You pause.

“I want him to know that I see him.”

Peter goes quiet.

That sentence hits harder than you realize.

Because that's exactly what Peter has wanted his entire life.

To be seen.

Not Spider-Man.

Peter.

The logic isn't perfectly sound, but he sees where you're coming from.

It's not like he's any better.

He followed you to this party, after all.

Peter looks down at his hands.

Then back at you.

“Can I have your number?”

The words escape before he can think about them.

“Oh!”

He immediately curls in on himself.

“Sorry, I shouldn't've—”

“I was about to ask you the same thing!”

You pull out your phone and open your contacts.

Peter stares at the screen as you type.

You hand it to him.

His name appears beneath your contact information.

Peter Parker.

He smiles.

You smile back.

“I’ll update you about Spider-man’s whereabouts next time so we can meet up.”

“You could also just… tell me where you are… so we could just hang out. Spider-man doesn’t have to be there.” He suggests.

You chuckle, the thought having passed your mind.

“Don't worry,” you say. “I won't spam you.”

“I wouldn't mind.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

A beat.

“I mean, you're... funny.”

You laugh.

“That's your reason?”

“It's a good reason.”

“Okay, Peter Pictures.”

“Please don't call me that.”

“Absolutely calling you that.”

He laughs.

For the first time in years, Peter doesn't feel like he's standing outside your life looking in.

He's actually sitting beside you.

Talking to you.

And you have no idea how impossible that feels to him.

The two of you keep talking.

You tell him about your website.

He tells you about photography.

You argue about the best Spider-Man sightings.

He deliberately avoids mentioning the ones he remembers because he was the one wearing the suit.

Eventually, you start talking about everything else.

Books.

Movies.

School.

The city.

The weirdest people you've ever met.

You laugh at one of Peter's jokes so hard that you have to cover your mouth.

Peter just stares.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You're looking at me weird.”

“Sorry.”

He smiles.

“I just... haven't talked to someone like this in a while.”

Your expression softens.

“Me neither.”

The party slowly empties around you.

Neither of you notices.

Eventually someone calls your name from the hallway.

“You still alive in there?”

“Yeah!”

You look back at Peter.

“Guess I should probably go say goodbye to everyone.”

Peter nods.

“Yeah.”

Neither of you moves.

Then you smile.

“I guess I'll see you around, Peter.”

He smiles back.

“Yeah.”

You walk away.

Peter stays sitting on your bed for another few seconds.

Then he looks toward the Spider-Man board.

Every photograph.

Every theory.

Every clue.

And underneath it all, one sentence keeps replaying in his mind.

I want him to know that I see him.

Peter smiles sadly.

Because you don't know it yet.

But you just spent the entire night talking to him.

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

You: [Sent Location]

You: Come here rn, robbery is happening

You: spider-man is swinging around the area so he’s got an 80% chance of arriving to deal with this

You: u coming or what?

Peter swung through the streets, reading your messages with shaky hands.

You had alerted him of the robbery about 5 minutes before he was notified of it.

He'd gotten a head start and burst into the bodega, where a sweet old man was being cornered with a gun.

He kicked the robber in the head and disarmed him with his web shooters.

“Really, buddy? Pick on someone your own size.”

He heard the shutters of a camera clicking and turned around.

There you were.

Without fear, shielding the bodega owner while taking pictures.

Peter instinctively smiled at you, being caught on camera, before remembering you couldn't even see his mouth.

“Hi,” he whispered, webbing the criminal to the freezers.

You lowered the camera with an amazed look.

Peter noticed your digital watch was open to spideytracker.com, and suddenly realized you'd been following him in real time.

“Hi, Spider-Man.”

The bodega owner rushed into Spider-Man's arms to thank him and sing his praises.

You kept your eyes on him in amazement as police cars started pulling in.

You looked around and decided it was probably time to leave.

Peter wanted to call out to you.

He wanted to tell you to wait.

Instead, he watched you disappear through the doorway as he turned toward the police officers, who were already very familiar with him.

You: Peter where were you?

You: ugh ok ur busy i gets

You: [Sent 20 attachments]

Peter P. reacted ‘❤️’ to your messages

Peter: Sorry, couldn’t make it today! everything happened so fast!

Peter: love your pictures ❤️

Peter: You should create a crime tracker so you can predict where spider-man is headed.

Peter: It would be really helpful

You: hmm… i’ll think about it :)

Peter stared at your messages.

Then he looked at the photographs you'd sent.

There were twenty of them.

Spider-Man kicking the gun away.

Spider-Man catching the robber.

Spider-Man checking on the bodega owner.

And, annoyingly, one where Spider-Man was looking directly at the camera.

At you.

Peter saved that one.

He told himself it was because it was a good photograph.

Nothing more.

Peter: okay wait these are actually insane

You: right????

Peter: especially the last one

You: i think he was looking at me

Peter's fingers froze.

Peter: probably just looking at the camera

You: noooo i swear he looked directly at me

Peter: maybe he recognized you

You: do you think he remembers me?

Peter stared at that question for a long moment.

He remembered.

Of course he remembered.

He remembered the street.

Your trembling hands.

Your promise.

And now he was watching you chase after him all over again.

Peter: I'm sure he does.

You: 🥹

Peter put his phone down.

Then picked it up again.

Peter: just promise me you won't put yourself in danger trying to find him

You took a while to respond.

You: i promise :)

Peter knew immediately that you were lying.

And somehow, that made him smile.

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

You: wya???

Peter: I’m right there with you

You: im literally on a rooftop right now and i assure you i cannot see you 

Peter: [Sent 5 attachments]

You: HUH???

You: It’s like you were right in front of him, how did i not see you?

Peter: I told you

Peter: I’m sneaky 🤫

You: we genuinely need to meet up one of these days

You: You can’t keep avoiding me

Peter: I’m just shy.

You: Mhm, tell that to your 90k followers

Peter: I don’t know them

You: but you know me?

You: we met once, don’t be shy.

Peter: yeah but i like you

[Peter P. deleted a message]

You: ??? 

You: What was that

Peter: nothing

Peter: let’s meet up for coffee, no spider-man involved.

You: you sly dog

You: or should I say sly spider?

Peter looks up from his phone with a grin in an alleyway as he changes out of his spider suit. He looks up to find you on a rooftop walking away, giggling as you text him. 

His heart beats a little faster seeing your smile, and he patiently waits for you to come down so he can show you his photos.

“Oh, Peter! Where were you?” you say, surprised to see the brunette as you exit the apartment building you were photographing Spider-Man from.

“Just… around.” He replies.

He pulls out his camera and shows you the shots he’s taken of himself, to which you react in awe.

“You’re incredible, Peter, seriously. You could be a ninja.”

Peter blushes at that but quickly tries to switch the topic.

“Not as good as you. I mean, how do you get to certain places for these shots? It’s incredible!”

You playfully push his shoulder as you keep walking.

“I'm resourceful.”

“That's one word for it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I've seen your website.”

“Oh, God.”

“No, seriously. You’re basically running a private investigation.”

“It's research.”

“It's stalking.”

“It's journalism.”

Peter laughs.

“Okay, journalist. How did you get onto the roof of that building?”

You shrug.

“Fire escape.”

“There was a fire escape?”

“Technically.”

Peter raises an eyebrow.

“What does technically mean?”

“It means there was a fire escape-shaped object attached to the building.”

“That's not reassuring.”

“You're one to talk. You literally hang off streetlights.”

“Yeah, but I have a spider-themed excuse.”

You laugh.

“Okay, fair.”

Peter guides you through the streets, inputting his random factoids about his favourite corners of the city.

“That building over there used to be a theatre.”

“No way.”

“Yeah. Closed down in the 2000s. My aunt used to take me there when I was little.”

“You've lived here your whole life?”

“Pretty much.”

“So you know the whole city?”

Peter smiles.

“Not the whole city.”

“Okay, then what's your favorite part?”

He thinks for a second.

“This.”

You look around.

“This?”

“This block. There's a little bookstore around the corner that's been here forever. And there's this pizza place two streets over that has the best—”

“Wait. You're telling me you know where good pizza is and you haven't told me until now?”

Peter laughs.

“I barely know you.”

“You've seen my entire Spider-Man tracking website.”

“That's different.”

“How?”

“I've read your website. That's not the same as knowing you.”

You smile at him.

“Then I guess you should get to know me.”

Peter goes quiet for half a second.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “I guess I should.”

You continue walking beside him.

He's a real interesting guy, surprisingly. You thought you'd only have Spider-Man in common, but the more you talk, the more you realize you actually like being around Peter.

He tells terrible jokes.

He gets distracted halfway through his own stories.

He has strong opinions about pizza.

And somehow, despite all the strange coincidences surrounding him, he's easy to talk to.

“So,” you say, nudging his shoulder again, “do you have any hobbies besides taking pictures of Spider-Man?”

Peter looks at you.

“Uh…”

He can't exactly say saving people, swinging through Manhattan, and secretly watching you from rooftops.

“Photography?”

You laugh.

“That's literally what I just said.”

“Okay, rude.”

“What else?”

Peter thinks.

“Science.”

Your eyes light up.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“What kind?”

“Basically everything.”

You grin.

“Okay, you're officially a nerd.”

Peter smiles.

“Coming from you?”

“Fair.”

For a moment, neither of you says anything.

You're just walking together.

And the thought makes your heart flutter.

Maybe you haven't just found another Spider-Man fan.

Maybe you've found a friend.

You’re so happy that you don’t even ask how he knows the way to your apartment.

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

It becomes a habit, walking you home.

But sometimes Peter doesn’t have the energy to talk after a day of patrolling the city.

So he follows you home.

It’s easy because you always share your location with Peter, sometimes even sending cute selfies from the balcony you’re perched upon or the Chinese restaurant you snuck into.

Peter tries to stop himself from feeling guilty about it.

I just want to keep them safe, he tells himself.

That has to be enough of a reason.

By the time you reach your apartment, you’re quick to pull out your phone and FaceTime Peter. He keeps his camera off as he walks back home, but he smiles at the pixels that form your face.

You’re still cute.

You yap about your day and how excited you were when Spider-Man waved at you, little bits of fanservice he saves just for one special person. 

You theorize about every person you pass by, telling Peter about your latest suspects or where you think Spider-Man went after he left the scene of the crime.

Sometimes you’re right.

Sometimes you’re wrong.

Sometimes Peter feeds you misinformation just to get you off his trail.

“Okay, I'm telling you, it was definitely the guy in the green jacket.”

Peter snorts.

“You can't accuse every person in New York of being Spider-Man.”

“I have a system.”

“Your system is pointing at people and going, ‘That guy looks suspicious.’”

“Exactly. It's foolproof.”

Peter laughs quietly.

You smile at the sound.

“What's so funny?”

“Nothing.”

“You're laughing at me.”

“Maybe a little.”

“Rude.”

He turns on his camera once he’s reached his bed, positioning his phone so you can see his face.

You continue talking.

Peter listens.

His eyes start getting heavier.

He tries to fight it because he doesn't want the conversation to end.

Eventually, though, his responses become quieter.

Shorter.

You notice.

“Peter?”

“Mhm?”

“Are you falling asleep?”

“No.”

A pause.

“You totally are.”

“I’m listening.”

“You're literally closing your eyes.”

Peter smiles sleepily.

“Still listening.”

You laugh under your breath and keep talking anyway.

You tell him about the latest Spider-Man sighting.

Then about something you saw at the café.

Then a completely unrelated story about someone you passed on the street.

Peter barely manages to respond.

Eventually, he falls asleep to the sound of your voice.

He wakes up later, blinking at the light from his phone.

The call has ended.

He stares at the screen for a moment.

He wonders what made you hang up.

When did you decide it was time?

Did you fall asleep too?

Did you get bored?

He checks the time.

It was much later than he expected.

Peter smiles despite himself.

He doesn't know that you stayed on the call a little longer than you should have, quietly watching him sleep before finally ending it.

Maybe you just wanted to make sure he was okay.

Maybe you didn't want to be the first one to leave.

Maybe you're both a little strange.

And neither of you knows that the other is doing the exact same thing:

checking in just one more time before finally letting go.

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

Spider-Man swings away, and you eagerly dial the same boy you’ve called every day for the past three weeks.

“Peter, he just swung away, oh my gosh, I swear I almost have it.”

Peter’s still swinging across the city, face covered by the red mask, but he can’t resist picking up his phone.

“Have what?”

“His identity! Spider-Man wore a yellow jacket today and I swear I’ve seen it somewhere before, I just need to remember where.”

Peter nearly falls as he realizes he’s wearing an article of clothing Peter Parker has worn around you before.

“Didn’t you see it on some guy in a pizzeria?” He suggests

“Hmm… did I?” Your voice trails off in thought “You’re probably right.”

You relent easily, trusting Peter more than your own memory.

Peter lands behind an apartment building and takes off his mask, shoving it into his pocket and zipping up his jacket to hide his spider logo.

On the street, he spots you quickly skipping to your apartment through the corner of his eye, and he does what he always does.

He stays far enough away that you don’t spot him and the frequency doesn't make your phones ring.

He watches you happily talk to him, and it’s so enchanting that it nearly distracts him from the words you're telling him.

“Spider-Man winked at me. Well, I don’t know if it was a wink or a malfunction of his goggles, but it felt sweet and I took it personally.” You ramble.

“I think he’s happy when I’m around. At least—I hope so.” You say, biting your fingernail. “Do you think he thinks I’m a stalker?”

“No!” Peter says quickly, almost flinching at the word. “I’m sure he appreciates the attention you give him.”

“You’re just saying that 'cause you’re stalking him too.”

“What? No!”

“Yeah, you are, you staaaalllkeeerr!!!”

The words make Peter wince, and he momentarily stops in his tracks.

He holds the phone close to his ear as he watches you enter the lobby of your apartment building.

He waits for you to head up the elevator and doesn't leave until he watches the lights turn on in your apartment.

“Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

He laughs.

“Thank you for what?”

“You’re the only person who understands how I feel about Spider-Man. Sometimes…”

You sigh.

“Sometimes it’s like you’re the only person who’s looking at me. Like, actually looking at me.”

Peter's smile fades.

He watches your silhouette move past the window.

“I sure hope I am.”

You go quiet for a moment.

Then you smile.

“I think you are.”

Peter swallows.

For a second, he forgets that you're talking about Peter Parker.

Not Spider-Man.

Not the person you've spent weeks trying to find.

Just him.

The boy on the other end of the phone.

“Good,” he says quietly.

You don't notice how carefully he says it.

“Because I like talking to you.”

Peter looks down at his phone.

“I like talking to you too.” He says.

“You're not going to disappear on me, right?” You ask carefully.

The question catches him off guard.

He looks back toward your apartment.

“No.”

A pause.

“I'm not going anywhere.”

You smile.

“Promise?”

Peter's eyes linger on the light in your window.

“Promise.”

He waits another few minutes before finally turning away.

Then his phone buzzes.

A message from you.

you: goodnight peter :)

Peter stares at it.

Then types:

peter: goodnight.

He puts his phone away.

For a moment, he stands completely still.

He knows he should go home.

Instead, he looks up at your window one last time.

Then he disappears into the night.

God, he fucking loves you.

It hurts.

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

Peter wakes up the next morning. 

Not in his bed. 

Not next to you, unfortunately.

But in a cocoon of web.

Not the perfect, stiff webs his web-shooter makes.

These are different.

Softer. Thinner. Almost organic.

They cling to his skin like silk.

Peter groggily pushes a strand out of his eyes, blinking against the morning sunlight. For a few seconds, he has absolutely no idea where he is.

Then he looks down.

His stomach drops.

He's several stories above the ground.

“Holy—”

He panics, wriggling against the webbing and nearly sending himself tumbling toward the pavement below.

Until something catches.

A thin strand shoots from his wrist and latches onto an electricity line.

Peter freezes.

His eyes slowly follow the web from his wrist to the wire.

Wait.

What?

He stares at his hand.

Then at the web.

Then back at his hand.

His web-shooter isn't there.

“...What?”

His heart starts pounding.

He raises his wrist experimentally.

Nothing happens.

He tries again.

A strand suddenly shoots from his skin.

Peter recoils.

“No, no, no—”

He frantically slaps at his wrist until the web disconnects.

He drops.

“AH—!”

He lands hard on the pavement, scrambling upright and immediately looking around.

Nobody seems to have noticed.

Peter grabs his clothes, pulls them on as quickly as possible, and practically sprints into the laundry room of the building.

He locks the door behind him.

Silence.

His breathing is the only thing he can hear.

Peter slowly raises his wrist again.

A tiny bead of webbing gathers beneath his skin.

He stares at it.

This isn't his web-shooter.

This isn't technology.

And, somehow, that's the part that scares him most.

“What the heck is happening?”

He runs back up to his apartment, asking E.V. to analyse what’s wrong with him.

He’s in the middle of staring at his own wrists as he gets a call from you. 

As soon as he sees your face appear on his phone, an electric shock rolls throughout his body and a web shoots to his phone, attaching it to his hand quickly. 

It’s almost like he can’t control his body when he clicks the answer button and asks “What’s up?”

“Hey, Pete. You weren’t answering my good morning messages, so I was wondering what’s going on.” You almost sound like a concerned partner, and his makes his heart feel like it’s literally beating out of his chest. 

Peter looks around at his web covered room. A lot of shit is going on. 

“Just… cleaning up, sorry.”

As if something possesses him, he asks “You sound so concerned, were you worried about me, bug?”

“Bug?” You laugh and revert back to your snarky self “Ugh, You wish, dummy. I just wanted to make sure Peter Parker’s last words weren’t goodnight.”

“Sounds like you care.”

“Is it that hard to believe I care about someone other than Spider-man? I have other hobbies, y’know.”

Peter bites his lip so hard he thinks it’s going to bleed. Words are coming out of his mouth before he can even stop them. 

“Fuck, I wanna see you.”

You yelp on the other side of the screen. “Peter Parker swearing? Wow, you’re really forward.”

“I just… I miss you.”

“You saw me like 3 days ago.”

“Too long.” He nearly whines, god he sounds so pathetic right now.

You bite your lip back and smirk. “Well then you’ll just have to catch me, Pete.”

You end the call there, trying to be mysterious, but god it causes such an ache in Peter’s body. Like he suddenly craves you. Not that he didn’t before, but now it feels like the heartbreak from not being around you is actually tearing him apart.

He needs to figure out what’s wrong with him and quick.

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

The television is already on when Peter walks into the apartment.

He barely pays attention at first.

He's exhausted.

His body feels wrong. His thoughts feel wrong. Everything about him has felt slightly off since the night before.

Then he hears a familiar name.

“Spider-Man is facing growing criticism tonight following an incident involving police and the supervillain known as Scorpion.”

Peter stops.

He slowly turns toward the television.

Footage plays across the screen.

Spider-Man.

Him.

Except he doesn't look like himself.

The footage is shaky, filmed from several blocks away. Spider-Man is fighting Scorpion, moving faster and more aggressively than Peter remembers. The reporter explains that several officers were caught in the middle of the confrontation, with one nearly being seriously injured.

Peter's stomach twists.

“Witnesses claim Spider-Man appeared unusually aggressive during the altercation. One police officer was nearly struck during the confrontation, raising renewed questions about whether the masked vigilante is becoming a danger to the public.”

Peter stares at the screen.

He remembers it.

Not clearly.

Pieces.

The sound of shouting.

His fists tightening.

The overwhelming urge to keep fighting.

He'd thought he'd been protecting people.

Hadn't he?

The footage cuts to a police spokesperson.

Then a montage of headlines.

SPIDER-MAN: HERO OR THREAT?

HAS THE WALL-CRAWLER GONE TOO FAR?

Peter reaches for the remote.

Then the screen changes.

A familiar face appears.

His heart stops.

It's you.

You're standing outside a police station, holding a microphone and looking slightly nervous.

The reporter speaks.

“But not everyone believes Spider-Man deserves the criticism. Earlier today, we spoke with a local resident who says the masked hero saved their life.”

Peter slowly lowers the remote.

You look directly into the camera.

“I think people are forgetting something.”

The reporter asks:

“What do you mean?”

You hesitate.

Then:

“Spider-Man saved me.”

Peter's expression softens.

You continue.

“I was walking home one night and someone was following me. He had a knife.”

Peter remembers.

The streetlight.

The knife.

Your frightened expression.

His hand reaching toward yours.

“I don't know what would've happened if Spider-Man hadn't shown up.”

The reporter asks:

“But what about what happened with the police officer?”

You glance away for a moment.

“I wasn't there. I didn't see what happened.”

Then you look back at the camera.

“But I know Spider-Man.”

Peter's eyes widen slightly.

You smile.

“Well... I don't know him. Not really.”

A tiny laugh escapes you.

“But I've met him.”

Peter sits down.

You continue.

“And he didn't have to save me that night. He didn't know me. I was just some random person walking home.”

You pause.

Then say the words Peter remembers hearing in his own voice.

“But he told me I wasn't nobody.”

Peter's throat tightens.

“He told me I was somebody.”

The reporter is silent.

You take a breath.

“So when I see people saying he's dangerous or that he doesn't care about people... I don't know. That's not the Spider-Man I met.”

Peter looks down.

His hands are shaking.

Because he knows you're defending a version of him that he's becoming less certain still exists.

The reporter asks:

“Do you still trust him?”

You don't hesitate.

“Yes. Without a doubt.”

Peter looks back at the television.

“If he acted violently, I trust he had a reason. He’s spider-man.”

You smile faintly.

“I think everybody deserves someone who shows up when they're scared.”

The interview cuts back to the news anchor.

Peter doesn't hear what she says.

He's still staring at you.

Still hearing your voice.

I think everybody deserves someone who shows up when they're scared.

His chest aches.

Because suddenly, the thing he wants most isn't to be Spider-Man.

It's to be the person you think Spider-Man is.

Peter reaches for his phone.

Your Instagram is already open.

Your newest story is the interview.

He watches it again.

And again.

And again.

Then his thumb hovers over the message button.

He wants to tell you he's proud of you.

He wants to tell you thank you.

He wants to tell you that he remembers that night too.

Instead, he locks his phone.

Because you don't know.

Not yet.

And somewhere beneath the guilt, beneath the fear, beneath the strange new instincts crawling beneath his skin, Peter feels something else.

Something warm.

Something possessive.

Like a feeling crawling through his skin, that deep craving to be near you, to hold you and claim you.

You still believe in me.

And for the first time since his powers began changing, Peter isn't sure whether that thought comforts him—

or scares him.

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

In the chatroom section of your SpideyTracker website, you start getting weird messages.

It starts with:

“Too dangerous. Don't go here.”

You assume it's just another concerned user during a violent bank robbery.

Then comes:

“You're getting reckless.”

This time, it's posted immediately after you nearly get hit by falling debris.

Then:

“Go home.”

You roll your eyes at your screen.

Whoever this is, they're clearly watching.

You become obsessed with figuring out who keeps leaving these notes. You check usernames, timestamps, IP logs, everything you can access. But there's never a name attached.

Eventually, it's undeniable.

Spider-Man has been reading your website.

And somehow, he isn't just checking your tracker.

He's checking you.

The realization should scare you.

Instead, your heart starts pounding with excitement.

You type into the chatroom:

 spideytracker: are you spider-man?

For several minutes, nothing happens.

Then a new message appears.

Unknown: Go home.

You stare at the screen.

A smile slowly creeps across your face.

You type:

 spideytracker: make me.

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

Peter becomes less careful.

He starts following you in the Spider-Man costume.

And of course, you notice.

Your tracker shows him hanging around your favorite parks and cafés. You've gotten a scary amount of notifications about him swinging by your apartment building.

You hope this doesn't mean criminal activity is rising in your neighborhood.

You silently hope it means Spider-Man is trying to find you.

You call out his name from your balcony as he swings by, and sometimes he'll stop for a five-minute chat.

“Spider-Man!”

The masked vigilante hops onto your tiny balcony and tilts his head at you.

“Oh my gosh, I can't believe I'm talking to you this close.”

“Just me.”

“I-I’m  spideytracker on Instagram if you've ever heard of me—”

“I have.”

“My gosh. Uh—I'm also a biochemical engineering major, so, if you ever need new tech, I could—”

His goggles widen like eyes would.

“Wait.” An idea forms in his head. “Do you know Bruce Banner?”

You nod.

“Yeah, the hulk, of course”

Spider-Man snaps his fingers like he's just come up with an idea.

“You know his inhibitor? The thing that stops him from turning into the Hulk?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think you could make one for me?”

You blink for a few seconds. “W-what do you mean?”

“I'll send you some files and prototypes I've been working on. I just need some help making this thing that’ll stop me from… going crazy.”

You stare at him.

He's asking you.

Spider-Man is asking you for help.

“I-I'd love to help you, Spider-Man. Just send them over, my email is in my IG bio—”

“Yep, yep. Don't worry, I know it.”

You blink.

“You... know it?”

He freezes for half a second.

“I mean—I've seen your account.”

“Oh.”

You smile.

“Right.”

He gives you a tiny wave before he's off again, soaring to a new location.

You grip your phone and squeal like a teenage girl.

And, of course, the first thing you do is call Peter.

He picks up almost immediately.

“Hey.” He says, sitting on top of a restaurant sign. 

“PETER.”

Peter nearly drops his phone.

“What?”

“YOU ARE NOT GOING TO BELIEVE WHAT JUST HAPPENED.”

He already knows.

“I—uh—what happened?”

“Spider-Man stopped on my balcony.”

Peter tries not to smile.

“No way.”

“YES WAY.”

You launch into the entire story, talking so quickly he can barely keep up.

“He knew my account, Peter. He knows who I am. And then he asked me to help him with his technology!”

Peter lies himself down on the illuminated restaurant sign.

“That's... really cool.”

“Really cool?! Peter, this is the greatest day of my life.”

Peter laughs.

“Okay, maybe a little dramatic.”

“I'm serious!”

“I know.”

You go quiet for a second.

“Do you think he trusts me?”

Peter's smile fades.

He looks across the street at your balcony.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “I think he does.”

You smile.

“Good.”

Peter watches you disappear back inside.

He should feel relieved.

Instead, there's an unfamiliar knot in his chest.

Because now you're going to be working with Spider-Man.

You're going to be even closer to him.

And Peter can't decide whether that's exactly what he wants—

or the worst possible idea he's ever had.

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

Peter’s sitting next to a garbage can when he catches a girl talking to you outside your apartment building.

“Oh my gosh, you’re so cute, what floor do you live on?” she asks.

You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Uh, third.”

“Wow, we live on the same floor. I never noticed you.”

Peter’s wrists start to ache.

He silently winces, gripping his hand as an uncomfortable pressure builds beneath his skin. He has to prevent himself from webbing you and taking you for himself.

He feels his eyes shift.

He knows they turn black when his arachnid DNA starts to take over.

He must be staring at you like a monster hunting its prey right now.

His breathing gets heavier.

His fingers twitch.

He imagines the webbing.

He imagines pulling you away from her.

Keeping you somewhere safe.

Somewhere nobody else can reach you.

Then—

“Sorry, I’m into someone else.”

Peter freezes.

The pressure immediately starts to fade.

He finally breathes again.

For the fact that he's not going spider-crazy or the fact that you're not going on a date with someone who isn't him, he doesn't know.

“Oh! Okay, well, do you think we could be friends?” the blonde girl asks.

You nod and quickly wave goodbye to the girl, getting out of the situation as quickly as possible.

Peter clutches his arm and falls back down to the ground with a sick grin on his face.

You love Spider-Man.

And even though he knows that isn't exactly the same thing as loving him, the thought still makes something warm spread through his chest.

You chose someone.

You chose him.

Peter looks up at your apartment window.

He knows he should leave.

Instead, he stays.

Just a little longer.

Just long enough to watch your bedroom light turn on.

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

“You okay, kid?” Spider-Man bends down to talk to a sweet seven-year-old boy in a knitted Minions hat.

The kid nods carefully, having nearly just been in a car crash.

You watch from a distance, careful to snap photos.

You don’t like posting photos of children on the internet for strangers to see, so you know you’ll just keep this for your own collection of Spider-Man pictures that never see the light of day.

You don't know when you stopped taking pictures for your own account and when you started taking them just for yourself.

You have multiple.

Him on his phone calling Detective DeWolffe.

Him flexing his arms to your camera jokingly.

Him lifting up his mask to lick an ice cream.

Okay, maybe you're just a freak.

You scroll through the photos later, smiling at the ones where he's looking directly toward your camera.

Sometimes you wonder if he knows you're there.

Sometimes you're convinced he does.

A tall man approaches Spider-Man for a photo and starts to talk to him.

You grip your camera tightly, suddenly not wanting to take a photo of the scene.

Something about him irks you.

Maybe it's the way he's standing too close.

Maybe it's the way Spider-Man is actually listening to him.

You roll your eyes and walk away.

You don't even look back.

You post your daily images of Spider-Man.

 spideytracker: couldn’t get a selfie today cause apparently spidey’s got other favourites 🙄

Peter smiles when he gets the notification.

You’re jealous.

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

You’re crouched behind a police barricade, camera pressed against your face as officers escort the captured supervillain toward a waiting police van.

“Come on, come on…”

You snap photograph after photograph.

The villain is yelling something at the reporters. Police are trying to push everyone back. Someone’s camera flashes beside you.

You adjust your lens, trying to get a clear shot of the handcuffs—

—and accidentally capture someone walking through the background.

You lower the camera.

Wait.

You scroll back through the photos.

There he is.

Peter.

Just walking past the scene with his backpack slung over one shoulder, completely unaware that you’ve just photographed him.

You zoom in.

His hair is messy from the wind. His glasses are slightly crooked. He’s looking off to the side with this tiny, distracted smile on his face.

You stare at the picture.

“Okay…”

You zoom in again.

“Oh my gosh.”

You take another look at the supervillain being loaded into the van.

Then back at Peter.

The villain suddenly becomes completely irrelevant.

You quickly save the photo.

Actually, you save it twice.

Then you stare at it for another few seconds before smiling to yourself.

You already know exactly where it's going.

That evening, your Spider-Man board gets a new addition.

Right between a blurry photograph of Spider-Man swinging past a billboard and a newspaper clipping about one of his rescues, you pin the picture of Peter.

You take a step back.

Something about it feels different from the other photographs.

You don't even know why.

Maybe because it's candid.

Maybe because he looks happy.

Maybe because you've started to realize that you really like having Peter around.

You tilt your head.

Then quietly mumble to yourself:

“Okay, Peter Parker… you can stay.”

And completely unknowingly, Peter has just earned himself a permanent spot on your Spider-Man board.

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

You’re halfway across the street when a web suddenly shoots around your waist.

“Whoa—!”

Before you can react, Spider-Man yanks you backward, pulling you safely onto the sidewalk.

You stumble straight into him.

His hands catch your shoulders.

“You okay?”

You look up at him, trying not to smile.

“Yeah.” You breath out.

He doesn't let go immediately.

You glance down at the web still wrapped around you.

Then back at him.

“You really love keeping me close, huh?”

There’s a pause.

Spider-Man tilts his head.

“Maybe I do.”

You laugh.

“Oh, really?”

“Maybe.”

“That's a little suspicious.”

“I'm a suspicious little guy.”

“You're a superhero.”

“Those aren't mutually exclusive.”

You tug lightly at the web around your waist.

“So are you going to let me go?”

He looks down at the web.

Then back at you.

“...Eventually.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Eventually?”

“Just making sure you're safe.”

“You've been saying that a lot lately.”

“Because you keep finding dangerous situations.”

“You keep showing up.”

He goes quiet.

You grin.

“See?”

Spider-Man's mask hides his expression, but you swear you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Maybe that's not a coincidence.”

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

You start spending more time with Spider-man. 

You still try to see Peter whenever you can but the memory of him fades away when Spider-man is near. 

Sometimes you’ll just be walking on the street when you’re suddenly pulled up by the web to talk. 

You don’t talk about anything personal, you know better than that. 

You show him your website and your home-made criminal tracker. You show him your private photos of him and ask him to record supportive messages for your sick niece.

“What’s your biggest fear, spidey?” You sip on a slurpee as you two stare into the sunset.

He pulls up his mask slightly to drink his red slushie. 

“Probably… Ugh, no this is going to be sad.”

“What- hey! Let’s get deep! Let’s get personal!” You encourage, giving him a nudge.

“I’m scared… of the people I love forgetting about me… and looking past me like I’m not even there.”

You inhale as you take in his words.

“You got a girl, Spidey?”

“What?”

“You got someone you love?”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Maybe”

“What’re they like?”

He chuckles.

“Absolutely obsessed with me.”

You scoff. 

“Sounds terrifying.”

“They are, but they’re also fun.”

You give a sad smile.

You don’t even realise he’s talking about you.

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

Peter only means to grab his jacket.

That's it.

You'd invited him over to work on the inhibitor, but you'd disappeared into the kitchen to make coffee, leaving him alone in your apartment.

He glances toward the hallway.

Your bedroom door is slightly open.

Peter hesitates.

He shouldn't.

He knows that.

But his curiosity wins.

He quietly steps inside.

At first, he only notices the usual things: books scattered across your desk, clothes folded over a chair, your camera sitting beside your laptop.

Then he sees the board.

Peter freezes.

It's covered in photographs of Spider-Man.

Action shots. Newspaper clippings. Screenshots from your tracker.

And then—

Him.

A photograph of Peter Parker is pinned near the center.

Peter's stomach flips.

He steps closer.

Underneath the photograph are three handwritten notes.

Same jackets. Carries too many things.

Peter looks down at his backpack sitting by the door.

“Okay…”

Another note.

Pretends not to be nervous.

His eyebrows rise.

“What?”

Then the third.

Looks at people when they aren't looking.

Peter stares at it.

His face slowly heats up.

Because he knows exactly what photograph that note is referring to.

It's a candid shot of him walking away from a crime scene, looking toward you while you weren't paying attention.

He reaches toward the photograph, almost touching it.

Then he hears footsteps in the hallway.

Peter practically jumps out of his skin.

“Peter?”

He whips around.

You’re standing in the doorway, holding two mugs.

“What are you doing in here?”

Peter looks at the board.

Then at you.

Then back at the board.

“I—”

His brain completely fails him.

You glance behind him.

Your eyes widen.

“Oh my God.”

You set the mugs down.

“You weren't supposed to see that.”

Peter smiles despite himself.

“Looks like I'm interesting enough for the Spider-Man board.”

“Peter!”

You rush past him, trying to cover the photographs with your hands.

He laughs.

“Wait, wait—”

“Don't look!”

“Too late.”

You groan, hiding your face.

Peter looks at the photograph one more time.

He can't stop smiling.

Because apparently, while he's been watching you...

You've been watching him too.

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

You’re on the balcony, talking to an upside down hero once again.

“If you weren't Spider-Man, what would you be?”

Peter thinks for a moment.

The question catches him more off guard than it should.

He looks out over the city, watching the lights flicker between the buildings.

“Nobody.”

You turn toward him, frowning heavily.

“That's not an answer, and definitely not a good one.”

Peter gives a quiet laugh, but there's something sad underneath it.

“Okay. Maybe... just some guy.”

You study him for a moment.

“Just some guy?”

He shrugs.

“Yeah. Some guy who goes to school, takes pictures, probably eats too much pizza.”

You smile.

“I'd like him.”

Peter looks at you.

For a second, he forgets how to breathe.

“You don't know him.”

You tilt your head.

“Neither do you.”

He looks away, a small smile pulling at his lips.

“Maybe you're right.”

You lean back against the rooftop ledge.

“I think I'd like him, though.”

Peter looks at you again.

“Why?”

You shrug.

“I don't know. He sounds kind.”

Peter's expression softens.

“Maybe he's not.”

“Maybe he is.”

There's a quiet pause between you.

Then you smile.

“Maybe I'd like to find out.”

Peter looks down at his hands.

He wonders what you'd think if you knew.

If you knew the “some guy” sitting beside you was the person you've spent months trying to find.

It hurts when he realises you’re telling him things you would never tell Peter Parker.

He never realised he could be so jealous of his own self.

He hates that you love him.

For once, he doesn't want to be Spider-Man.

He just wants to be Peter.

And he wants you to like him anyway.

 ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

With your help and your suggestions, Peter finally makes the perfect inhibitor to help calm his arachnid enhancements down.

His craving for you becomes a tolerable crush, and his anger becomes a tameable beast. 

He wants to take you in his arms and kiss you as a thank you, but he knows he can’t do anything but wait for you to figure out who he is and hope he’s okay with that.

 ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

You started using the criminal tracker to predict where Spider-Man would be headed next, arriving at crime scenes just minutes before he did so you could capture everything from the very beginning.

Of course, you didn't realize that would make you a target.

At first, it was little things.

Criminals covering their faces when they spotted your camera.

Someone knocking your lens away.

People yelling, "No pictures!" as they ran past.

Then word started spreading.

The photographer who was always there.

The one whose pictures somehow always ended up in police evidence.

The one helping Spider-Man.

You weren't just documenting crime anymore. You were interfering with it.

One afternoon, you're crouched behind an overturned taxi, zooming in on the city's latest supervillain as they trade blows with Spider-Man.

The shutter clicks. Then the villain turns.

Their eyes lock onto yours and they smile.

"Hey..."

Your blood runs cold.

"It's you."

You freeze.

"The photographer."

Fuck.

The villain abandons Spider-Man completely.

They start walking toward you.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

The ground shakes beneath every step.

You stumble backward, nearly dropping your camera.

People around you are already running.

Police officers are shouting for civilians to evacuate.

But the villain isn't looking at anyone else.

Just you.

"You've been making my life very difficult."

You turn and run.

A car explodes somewhere behind you.

Glass rains onto the street.

You don't dare look back.

A metal claw crashes into the pavement inches from your head, tearing through concrete as though it were paper.

You scream.

Another swing.

This one catches the strap of your camera, ripping it clean off your shoulder.

The camera tumbles across the road.

"No!"

You instinctively lunge for it.

A mistake.

The claw comes down again—

Then suddenly you're weightless.

A web catches around your waist.

The world blurs.

Spider-Man scoops you into his arms, swinging you high above the street before landing on the roof of a nearby building.

He sets you down a little harder than usual.

His hands stay on your shoulders.

His breathing is uneven.

His grip is tight enough that it almost hurts.

"What are you doing?" he demands.

"I—I was just taking pictures—"

"You could've died."

His voice is sharper than you've ever heard it.

You blink.

Spider-Man immediately softens, he places the slightly scratched camera back in your hands.

"...I'm sorry." You reply genuinely.

He glances back toward the battle.

The villain is already climbing after them.

Spider-Man sighs.

"Go home."

He gives your shoulders one last reassuring pat before launching himself back into the fight.

You watch him disappear between the buildings.

Only then do you realize your hands are shaking.

A few moments later, police officers finally make it onto the rooftop, asking if you're hurt, if you need medical attention, if you've inhaled too much smoke.

You answer automatically.

You don't remember what you say.

All you can think about is the feeling of Spider-Man's arms around you.

The panic in his voice.

The way he looked at you like losing you was the worst thing he could imagine.

You do what he asked.

You go home.

But your apartment feels emptier than usual.

You replay the encounter over and over, scrolling through the handful of blurry photographs your camera managed to save before it hit the ground.

None of them are any good.

You don't care.

You can't help it.

The more he saves you, the more in love you fall.

The more desperate you become to figure out who he is and where he'll be.

You know he doesn't want you there.

You know every crime scene could be the one where he isn't fast enough.

You know that the villains have started recognizing your face.

They aren't trying to scare you anymore.

They're trying to kill you.

And yet, every time you hear sirens in the distance, your first thought isn't I should stay away.

It's:

Maybe Spider-Man will be there.

Fuck.

You love him.

And somehow...

He already knows it.

 ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

On a quiet day after a serious injury, Peter decides to take Detective DeWolff’s advice and just chill out.

He asks you to hang out, and you gladly agree.

You two are sitting on the train headed to who knows where when your pinkies touch.

You don't notice it, but it sends a shiver up Peter's spine.

He looks down at your hands.

Then quickly looks away.

“There’s been no news of Spider-Man all day. I’m starting to get worried,” you mumble.

Of course your mind is still on him.

“I’m sure he’s just taking the day off.” He says, resting his head on your shoulder.

“That’s not like him.”

“You don’t know him,” Peter insists.

“I know, but I…”

You have nothing to say.

For once, neither of you does.

You let Peter interlock your hands together.

He’s so comfortable. If he were a cat, he’d be purring.

Peter closes his eyes.

He's having a hard time comprehending the feeling of not having to swing you out of danger and just experiencing…

Peace.

For once, there’s no sirens.

No criminals.

No cameras.

No Spider-Man.

Just the gentle movement of the train and your head resting against his.

Then it hits him.

You're safe because he's not around.

Well, obviously, he's with you right now, but you're not putting yourself in danger because Spider-Man isn't.

You’re checking your tracker every few minutes.

But you aren't running toward sirens.

You aren't climbing onto rooftops for a better photograph.

You're just sitting beside him.

Maybe he's been feeding your unhealthy obsession this whole time instead of preventing it because he saw himself in you.

Maybe that's why he understands you so well.

You both spend your days chasing something that makes you feel important.

For him, it's being Spider-Man.

For you, it's finding Spider-Man.

Maybe he's been giving you exactly what you wanted while accidentally making everything worse.

Peter looks down at your intertwined hands.

Maybe when Spider-Man isn't around, you're calmer.

Sadder.

But safe.

And he doesn't know how to deal with that.

Because he likes seeing you happy.

But he likes seeing you safe more.

A couple days later, you call him.

“I haven't seen Spider-Man in days.”

Peter pauses.

He's sitting on his bed, staring at the inhibitor prototype on his desk.

“Maybe that's a good thing.”

You chew your lip, almost offended he could even suggest such a thing.

“I don't think so.”

Peter closes his eyes.

“You've been getting hurt.”

“But he saves me.”

“That doesn't mean you should keep putting yourself in danger.”

You go quiet.

Peter immediately regrets his tone.

“I just mean…”

“I know.”

Another silence.

Then you quietly say:

“I miss him.”

Peter's chest aches.

“I know.”

“How can you know?”

Peter freezes.

Because he knows exactly what it feels like to miss someone who isn't really gone.

He swallows.

“Because I miss people too.”

You don't respond.

Peter looks at the ceiling.

He realizes he may have created this problem by making himself the center of your life.

Every time he showed up, you chased him.

Every time he saved you, you loved him a little more.

Every time he disappeared, you went looking.

And now he has to figure out how to break that cycle without breaking your heart.

“Hey,” he says quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe we should just hang out more.”

You smile faintly.

“Like today?”

“Yeah.”

“Even if Spider-Man isn't around?”

Peter smiles.

“Especially then.”

And for the first time, Peter wonders if maybe the person you need isn't Spider-Man at all.

Maybe you just need someone who stays.

 ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

It happened again.

The streets have felt safer ever since Spider-Man started taking care of you. After a couple of friend-dates with Peter, he went back to business, but with a bit more distance.

You don't mind.

You understand he has places to be. You're just happy he's safe.

You're daydreaming about the masked hero as always when he approaches.

The man from that night.

You hear footsteps behind you, but they're not enough to make you scared.

So you keep walking.

And so does he.

You take off your headset and hear the footsteps more clearly.

Your stomach lurches.

You turn around just enough to see him from your peripheral vision.

It's... him.

The man with the knife.

He has his hands in the pockets of his black hoodie, so you can't tell if he's armed.

You make an impulsive mistake.

And you fucking run.

He chases after you, speeding up and pulling out something sharp.

He's got longer legs. He's going to catch up to you.

You've never been this scared in your life. You just want to go home, but you don't want him to know where you live.

You look back.

Where the fuck is Spider-Man?

Where the fuck is Spider-Man?

Where the fuck is—

You trip over a stray dog, which lets out a whimper as you fall to the ground.

Shit.

You quickly get up, but he's only a few meters behind you now.

Please don't let this be a painful death.

You blink tears out of your eyes, your sobs slowing you down, when you hear a grunt from behind you.

You're too scared to turn around, so you keep running.

Until you hear a scream.

Your head swerves before you can even think about it.

There's the blue and red menace himself.

He's webbed the creepy man to a car and is confronting him.

“Get the fuck away from them!”

It's a tone of voice you've never heard from him in person.

“What the fuck do you want from me, man? I was just walking!” the man pleads.

“Stop talking!”

Spider-Man webs his mouth shut.

He looks furious.

For a second, you don't recognize him.

Not because of the mask.

But because of the rage in his posture.

“Get the fuck away, and stay the fuck away! If I catch you near them again, I'll—”

He stops himself.

His fist remains clenched at his side.

“Spider-Man...” you whisper.

Somehow, he hears your voice.

It's like he's been snapped out of a trance.

He looks at you.

All the anger disappears from his body at once.

“I'll... throw you in jail, man. Seriously. Back the hell off.”

He gets away from the man and turns toward you.

Then he's beside you.

“Are you okay?”

You can't answer.

He simply pulls you into his arms.

The trip home is quick.

You're on your balcony before you know it, taking shaky breaths as Spider-Man crouches in front of you.

“Hey, are you—”

You kiss him.

It's messy and desperate, and you don't even pull up his mask. You're just kissing him all over his masked face.

“Thank you. Thank you, thank you...”

There's no way to put your gratitude into words.

Spider-Man gently cups your cheek and presses a clothed kiss to your forehead.

“Spider-Man, I...”

You look at him.

“You saved me again.”

His expression behind the mask seems to soften.

“How do you find me every time?”

“I just...” He trails off.

There's no answer he can give you.

“I promised I'd find you.”

“Why me?”

A pause.

“Because you found me.”

You grip his suit.

“Spider-Man, I...”

You know you have to say it.

“I love you.”

He flinches.

“I’m sorry, but I can't get you out of my head. I've never been treated with so much care and respect. I've never been so focused on someone. I just need to know where you are and that you're safe.”

Your voice cracks.

“I've never been seen and found like this.”

You hold the sides of his face, not daring to take his mask off, staring into the vague shadows of his eyes through the goggles.

“I love you.”

He swallows.

“I...”

He takes in a sharp breath.

“I don't love you.”

Your heart freezes.

He can see in your eyes that something inside you has shattered.

“I don't...”

Peter struggles to say the next words.

“I don't even know you.”

You pinch the red fabric of his mask desperately.

“I don't know you either, but I... I'm obsessed with you. I need you.”

“Is that love?” he asks genuinely.

“I... I don't know. I think it is.”

Peter sighs.

He knows exactly how you feel.

And he hates himself for being the reason you're hurting.

He wanted so badly to be strong enough to stay away from you.

But he couldn't.

Not tonight.

And now he has to make a choice.

He's choosing to keep you safe.

“We can't keep following each other to the point of endangering each other and claiming that that's love.”

His voice shakes.

“I don't... I don't want to do this to you.”

You let go of his mask and sob into your hands.

You don't know what to do when the first person you've loved in years is saying no to you.

Saying he doesn't feel the same.

You sit on your balcony chair, holding your elbows and trying to keep yourself together.

You can't believe him.

But some tiny part of you still hopes he's lying.

“I’m sorry.”

You both say it at the same time.

Peter kneels in front of you and gently rubs your arms.

“But if it helps... I really like you.”

“That’s not enough.” You snap.

You whisper it so quietly that he almost doesn't hear.

“I need you to need me like I need you.”

Peter's chest aches.

“If you loved someone as much as I love you, you'd know how much this hurts.”

Peter looks away.

He wants to take every word back.

He wants to tell you the truth.

He wants to pull off his mask and tell you that the person sitting beside you on the train, calling you every night, laughing at your terrible jokes and listening to your theories about Spider-Man—

was him all along.

But he can't.

Not yet.

Instead, he reaches for your hand.

“You're going to be okay.”

You pull your hand away.

“I don't think I am.”

“You will.”

“How do you know?”

Peter looks at you for a long moment.

“Because you're stronger than you think.”

You don't answer.

He stands slowly.

For the first time, leaving you feels harder than staying.

But Peter knows what he wants.

He wants you safe.

He wants you to find something to love that doesn't require you to chase danger.

And, more selfishly than he'd ever admit—

He wants you to eventually love Peter Parker.

Not Spider-Man.

Not the mask.

Just him.

 ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

“So I was wondering if you wanted to grab a drink with me sometime?”

Peter holds wilting flowers in front of you, a desperate attempt to win your heart. He looks perfect. He’s in his nicest clothes, with that dorky smile on his face. 

You’ve spent so many days just talking to this boy, grabbing coffee, and showing him your favourite places that he already seemed to know. 

But you can’t do it.

You can’t say yes. 

“I’m sorry, Peter, I really am.” And Peter’s eyes drop to the ground, like he was expecting this. 

“But I’m already in love with… uhm…”

“Spider-man?”

You nod. 

He places the flowers down and gives an understanding look. 

“Yeah, I’m not… I’m not surprised.”

“Wasn’t exactly subtle, was I?” 

He shakes his head with a tiny laugh, handing you the flowers. You take them and place them in a vase next to your door. 

You give Peter a kiss on the cheek and walk outside with him. 

“I like you, I really do. More than friends. But it’s just…”

“Different with him?”

“Yeah.”

He interlocks your hands, and for some reason it feels tighter than usual. 

“It’s stupid, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“Being in love with someone who doesn’t even know me.”

Peter wants to tell you he feels the same, that he’s been in love with you since before you even knew his name. 

But he sticks to his plan. 

“Maybe you should let him go.”

You turn to look at him “Would you?”

Peter doesn't know how to answer.

“I don't know.”

You try to pull your hand away, but for some reason your hands feel stuck together like glue. 

And that’s when you realise something. 

“I want you to know that you should be yourself Peter. Even if you don’t love all of it, I do.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. 

“But not enough to date me?”

You shrug. “Let’s see.”

 ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

Spider-man hasn’t seen you for a while. 

He looks for you whenever he’s on the job, looks at every streetlight and rooftop for where you could be hiding this time. He even took off his inhibitor to see if he could sense where you were, but you never seem to be near. 

He knows he wanted you out of danger, but fuck it’s just like he’s back at square one, needing you again.

He swings by your apartment one day to see how you’re doing and check up on you, but you’re just reading something on your phone. It’s like a glimpse into your life when he isn’t around.

He knocks on your window and you quickly turn your phone off, already knowing who it is.

You slide your window open and Spider-man quickly enters, placing a hand on your cheek. 

“How have you been? Haven’t seen you in ages.”

You take his hand off your cheek.

“Don’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“Play pretend like you aren’t who you are?”

“What?”

“Take off the mask, Peter.”

Peter freezes in his place. 

“P-peter? Who-”

“Don’t do that, Peter, it’s insulting.”

Peter relents and takes off the mask. He thought this moment if it ever were to happen would be a lot more dramatic, but of course you were too smart for that.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? For lying to me, for keeping secrets or for following me home every night.”

His heart squeezes even tighter, of course you knew about everything. 

“I know you weren’t always around me because you were following Spider-man too.” You cross your arms. “I know you were following me.”

Peter has nothing to do but stare at the floor of your apartment.

“How long have you been doing this... following me?”

Silence.

“Peter.”

Finally he says “Long enough to know you were going to figure it out.”

“So... if I hadn't figured it out?”

“You would've.”

“That's not what I asked.”

He looks away.

“Eventually.”

“Peter.”

He sighs.

“Okay. I probably would've followed you forever.”

You stare at him.

“That's incredibly creepy.”

Peter admits

“I know. But you were doing it too.”

A beat.

“I'm working on it.” You two say at the same time.

You sigh.

“I guess we both have blame to share.” You say, rubbing your elbow and eyeing the mask in his hand.

“Do you have anything else you need to tell me?”

Peter let’s it spill, Dr. Strange’s spell, your previous relationship, his arachnid DNA, the way you met and the way you found each other again. It feels like poison ejecting itself from his mouth.

You nod patiently, listening to his every word, somehow nothing is too much for you to believe.

“I'm sorry. I know it wasn't my decision to make, but I wanted to keep you safe.” Is how he ends. 

You nod once again, eyes on his.

“I love you, Peter, but I think we have a lot of changes to make.”

He scratches the back of his neck bashfully. 

“Yeah.”

“How about we just stay friends first, and then go from there? No more stalking or secrets, just how normal people do it.”

“We’re far from normal.”

“Then something close to it. That’s all I need.” You suggest, and Peter agrees. 

You take the Spider-man board off your wall and throw it into the trash. What remains is a photo of you and Peter that you stuck on the wall when you realised he was Spider-man. 

Peter doesn’t even realise when a web shoots out of his wrist and pulls you towards him. 

“Peter.” You groan.

“Sorrry, can’t help it” He shrugs, with an annoying smirk on his face.

“Just one kiss before we start being friends?” He pouts.

You giggle and pull him in, lips interlocking desperately. 

You try to get words out in between kisses. “I still can’t believe you’re-”

“Shut up.” He says, literally shutting you up with his mouth.

This is going to be hard. 

But at least it’s you two.