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Ahn Keonho is seventeen, hopelessly overwhelmed, and ninetynine percent sure his own body, maybe an entire universe is fucking with him.
When he isn't trying to dodge his dad a police captain whose entire personality revolves around tracking Keonho’s phone location like a bloodhound, Keonho is just trying to survive high school. He lives for loud rock blasting through cheap wired headphones, thrifting oversized jackets and sneaking out his dorm window at night to spray paint murals onto forgotten freeway concrete.
What does he hate? Standardized testing, authority figures breathing down his neck, small talk with snobby prep school kids, and morning assemblies. He absolutely refuses to mess with strict dress codes or anyone trying to tell him how to draw.
Then comes the spider bite.
And it isn't even cool. Keonho is crouching under a damp bridge, shaking a can of paint, when a strange, glitching spider, glowing hot magenta, drops onto his neck and bites the absolute shit out of him.
The next forty-eight hours are a disaster. Keonho wakes up sweating through his sheets, his hands stubbornly glued to his own mattress. He accidentally rips his bathroom door handle clean off the wood, throws his alarm clock straight through the drywall trying to hit snooze, and spends an agonizing hour glued upside down to his ceiling, wearing nothing but boxers, while his dorm manager bangs on the door asking why it sounds like someone is throwing furniture around.
"I'm fine!" Keonho shrieks at the ceiling fan, sweat pouring into his eyes while his left butt cheek remains welded to the plaster. "Just doing... calisthenics!"
A week after waking up glued upside down to his ceiling in boxers, the city’s actual Spider-Man dies right in front of him. The guy shoves a glowing USB drive into Keonho’s hands, whispers, "The city's on you now, kid," and checks out. LITERALLY
Suddenly, Keonho is the hero. Except he has zero cash and zero training. He buys a dirt-cheap black suit online, blasts a crooked red spider logo onto the chest with spray paint, and hits the streets. He is a menace to public safety, webbing his own shoes together mid-jump, crashing into fruit stands, and landing flat on his back every single night.
And then there's Eom Seonghyeon.
Seonghyeon is a new transfer student in History. Messy dark hair, sharp jawline, smelling faintly of vanilla, a tiny silver eyebrow piercing on his left brow. Every time Seonghyeon tilts his head and that damn silver barbell glints in the classroom lights, Keonho’s brain completely short-circuits. Keonho is so embarrassingly down bad that when he tries to return Seonghyeon’s dropped pen on Tuesday, he panics, drops his entire binder, and scatters three weeks of notes like a complete dumbass.
Seonghyeon just picks up a page of Keonho’s messy spider doodles, hands it back with an amused smirk and says, "Nice drawings, Keonho." Keonho literally freezes for two full minutes.
Which brings Keonho to a freezing, drizzly midnight on top of a midtown water tower.
He has just tried to stop a car break-in, which went horribly wrong when he miscalculated his web trajectory, shot a wad of sticky fluid onto an iron ladder, and accidentally webbed his own left hand firmly to his own hip. Now he is standing in the rain, violently tugging at his own waist, looking like a lunatic attempting an aggressive dance.
"Unbelievable. Phenomenal work, Keonho," he mutters sarcastically, yanking until his suit stretches like rubber. "Truly the savior of New York. A master of martial arts."
The back of his neck tingles.
A tear in the air violently rips open five feet away, glowing with pink. Out drops a figure in a sleek, white suit with pink web patterns inside the hood, hood, and something like ballet slippers? Keonho guesses.
The stranger lands in a low, flawless superhero crouch. Zero thud. Zero wobble. Pure, irritating perfection. FUCK
Keonho, startles so bad his soul nearly leaves his body, tries to leap back, forgets his hand is glued to his belt line, and goes down sideways with a loud CRASH his knee smacks directly into an iron pipe.
"God- motherfucker!" Keonho yelps, clutches his knee with his one free hand and rolls around on the wet gravel. "Ah, yes, the classic floor-tactics approach!"
"Ouch," a light, raspy voice calls out through a full mask. "Is this a performance piece, or are you actually trying to break the record for most property damage inflicted on yourself?"
Keonho scrambles up awkwardly, trying to look imposing while heavily favoring his left leg and aggressively trying to hide the fact that his left hand is permanently glued to his waistband. He squints through his spray painted mask lenses. Between the white and pink suit, the delicate ballet slippers, and hood, Keonho’s desperate, panicked brain jumps straight to the dumbest conclusion possible.
"Wait... are you a girl Spider-Person?!" Keonho blurts out, his voice cracking so violently it hits an octave only dogs can hear. "Like Ghost-Spider?! Spider-Girl?! Why are you wearing ballet shoes?!"
The stranger slowly tilts his head. Under the mask, the judgment is palpable.
"Did you seriously just ask if I'm a girl because my suit has pink on it?" the white Spider asks, his voice calm, raspy, and dripping with sarcasm. "Fascinating deduction, Sherlock. Truly groundbreaking gender studies."
"I—no! It's the whole ensemble!" Keonho stammers, flailing his right arm while his left remains glued to his hip like a handle. "And you dropped out of a glowing pink hole! What am I supposed to assume?!"
"First of all, spray-paint," the stranger says, stepping forward with an effortless stride, "pink is a neutral color. Second of all..." He reaches out with two white gloved fingers, casually applying a quick solvent spray from his wrist onto Keonho's glued hand, instantly releasing it. "...your web chemistry is as bad as your balance."
"It was a tactical stance!" Keonho bluffs instantly, throwing his chest out and crossing his arms, "I had the situation completely under control."
"Right. You looked super authoritative doing whatever out here," the stranger deadpans.
He steps closer…way too close. Keonho freezes as the Spider-guy leans in slightly, inspecting the terrible, hand painted red logo on Keonho's chest.
Up close, Keonho's spider sense doesn't ping danger. It just buzzes with a weird, humming warmth. And then, through the damp fabric of his own mask, Keonho catches a faint whiff of something that makes his stomach drop through the roof.
Vanilla.
Keonho’s brain instantly goes into fatal error mode. No. Absolutely not. Coincidence. Lots of people smell like vanilla. Multiversal vanilla.
"Your form is atrocious, kid," the stranger murmurs softly, his raspy voice carrying a quiet, teasing edge that sends a bizarre spike of adrenaline straight down Keonho's spine. "And your suit smells like a hardware store explosion."
"Hey! It's custom, limited edition style!" Keonho squeaks, backing up so fast. "And stop standing so close to me! You don't even know me!"
"Keep practicing your swings, spray-paint," the white Spider chuckles softly. "Try not to web yourself to any more infrastructure."
Before Keonho can fire off another defensive lie, the stranger casually flips backward off the edge of the tower, shoots a web line into the sky, and swings gracefully into the night fog.
Keonho stands alone in the freezing rain for three full minutes, his heart hammering against his ribs, staring at the empty sky while his brain tries to digest what just happened.
"I am extremely cool!" Keonho shouts uselessly into the dark, his voice cracking on the last word. He slumps against the cold metal tank, dragging a hand down his mask. "God... I am so fucked."
Keonho spends the entire next morning in History staring directly into the back of Eom Seonghyeon’s head, his brain trapped in an agonizing loop.
He is down bad. Horribly, hopelessly down bad. Every time he looks at Seonghyeon, his heart does a pathetic little flip. He desperately wants Seonghyeon to like him back, to see him as someone cool, capable, and worth paying attention to, instead of just the awkward freshman.
Which brings Keonho to his current, insane predicament. He isn't stupid. He knows how to connect the dots. The guy in the white-and-pink suit on the water tower has the exact same posture, the razor-sharp sarcasm, and that low, raspy voice. And then there is the smell: vanilla. Nobody else in this city smells like expensive vanilla, well not the same as Seonghyeon.
It has to be him, Keonho thinks, staring intently at the back of Seonghyeon's neck. Seonghyeon is the multiversal Spider-Man. It makes total sense.
Then Seonghyeon casually turns around to stretch, his oversized hoodie shifting to reveal a collarbone, dark hair messy over his forehead, and that tiny silver eyebrow piercing glinting. He gives Keonho a quiet, sleepy look, blinking like a bored cat.
No. Never mind. That's impossible, Keonho’s brain instantly backtracks, violently rejecting its own theory. Look at him! He’s an artsy transfer student who drinks overpriced coffee and draws flowers in a leather journal. There is no way this pretty, quiet guy is doing double backflips off cranes in ballet slippers. I’m just so hopelessly obsessed with both of them that my brain is fusing them together. Yeah that’s it! I'm losing my mind..
When the bell rings, Seonghyeon slowly packs his notebook away. As he stands up, his dark eyes sweep across the classroom, landing squarely on Keonho.
"You're staring again, Keonho," Seonghyeon murmurs, stepping over to Keonho's desk. He leans down, resting both hands on the wooden surface, invading Keonho's personal space until he's barely six inches away. "If you wanted to look at me this badly, you could've just asked."
Keonho’s throat goes bone dry.. His heart hammers against his ribs so hard he’s sure Seonghyeon can hear it. Seonghyeon is flirting? No that’s not it…Keonho, completely clueless and entirely overwhelmed by proximity, misinterprets the intent entirely.
Keonho panics internally, his face burning hot. He thinks I'm weird! He's calling me out for being a creep! Fuckk!!
"I was not staring!" Keonho stammers out, throwing himself back so fast his chair legs screech loudly against the floor. He clears his throat, frantically tapping his pen against his desk like he's deeply occupied with important thoughts. "I was literally just thinking about something else. You just walked into my line of sight."
Seonghyeon doesn't move an inch. He just stays leaning over the desk, dark eyes tracking Keonho's flustered expression with an infuriating amount of patience.
"Your line of sight was aimed directly at my face for ten straight minutes," Seonghyeon murmurs softly, his raspy voice carrying that dry, teasing weight that makes Keonho's stomach pull a backflip.
"I'm trying to concentrate, Seonghyeon!"
A slow, maddeningly fond smirk pulls at the corner of Seonghyeon's lips. He tilts his head, as he lets out a quiet chuckle.
"Sure you are, painter," Seonghyeon hums, leaning in just half an inch closer before finally straightening up. "Good luck with all that concentration."
Keonho buries his face in his hands the second Seonghyeon walks out the door, groaning into his palms. Why am I like this? I just want him to think I'm cool!
By midnight, the harbor fog is thick and heavy.
Keonho stands on the edge of the tower in his suit. He spent two hours psyching himself up. Tonight, he isn't playing the clown. He fixed his wrist-shooters, checked his high-tops, and worked on his posture. He at least wants his superhero partner to respect him.
A tear in reality rips open five feet away with a violent CRACK of pink static.
Out drops the white suited Spider, landing in a low, weightless crouch before standing up with that maddening, effortless grace.
"Look at that," the raspy voice hums through the white mask. "No falling over tonight. Good job, kid."
Instead of throwing a fit, Keonho lets out a low, dramatic sigh, tilting his head. "Kid? Really? I'll have you know I'm a full time superhero. I even landed on both feet."
"I see that," the white Spider says, taking a slow, casual step closer. "Very impressive. Want a gold star?"
"I want you to admit I'm getting better," Keonho says, throwing his chest out, though his stomach immediately pulls a nervous flip as the white Spider stops right in front of him.
A breeze blows between them, carrying that exact scent of vanilla.
The white Spider uncrosses his arms, leaning in until their mask lenses are barely inches apart. The tension pulls tight between them, quiet and heavy. His raspy voice drops the dry sarcasm completely, sounding softer.
"You really care what I think, don't you?" the stranger asks softly.
Keonho’s breath hitches in his throat. He tries to play it off, to be cool, but up close, the heat radiating off the white Spider makes his brain melt. "I—well. Yeah. A little bit."
"You shouldn't," the white Spider murmurs, as he reaches out, his gloved fingers lightly taps the side of Keonho's spray-painted mask lens. "You've got guts, spray-paint. Most people would have quit after night one. But you keep coming back. I actually really admire that about you."
Keonho’s entire body locks up tight at the unexpected closeness and the soft praise.
"I—thanks," Keonho manages to choke out as he tries to keep his balance on the narrow steel ledge. "I mean... I try."
The white Spider lets out a quiet chuckle, taking a slow step back toward the edge of the water tower. "Keep trying. You might actually turn into a real hero one of these days."
Before Keonho can think of a single smooth response to save his life, the white Spider casually flips off the ledge again into the fog below, shooting a web and swinging away.
Keonho stands alone on the freezing roof, clutching his chest with both hands as his mind spins out of control.
"God," Keonho squeaks into the empty night, dragging a hand down his mask. "I am so fucked."
Two days after the interaction the city is again stuck under a heavy thunderstorm. Rain pours off the edge of city parking garage, coming down on Keonho’s mask in cold.
Suddenly, his spider-sense goes off.
A dimensional rift snaps open five feet away. The white Spider-guy tumbles out, hitting the wet gravel hard and skidding into a rusted iron. The white suit over his left ribs is scorched black, sizzling with a thick sludge that eats through the fabric like acid.
"Holy shit—are you okay?!" Keonho yells, rushing over.
"Gotta... move," the white Spider rasps, his voice weak and glitching. "They followed me..."
Above them, three armored multiversal creatures burst through, screeching as they dive down.
Keonho stops panicking. He moves on pure instinct, keeping it simple.
He shoots a web into the first ones face, yanks it down hard, and slams it face-first into the concrete floor. As the second one lunges, Keonho grabs a heavy iron pipe off the ground and swings it like a bat, cracking the monster straight across the jaw until it dissolves into where it came from. The last one spits a spray of something keonho can not make out, but it’s something like acid, Keonho duck-slides under it, web-slings himself off a pillar, and delivers a clean double-dropkick to its chest, pinning it to the wall with a web.
The rift finally snaps shut. The roof goes dead quiet.
Keonho drops the pipe and kneels beside the white Spider. Pulling a water bottle from his pouch, he pours it over the sludge until the sizzling stops, then firmly tapes the tear shut with heavy-duty duct tape he carries.
"Hey what were you thinking," Keonho mutters. "What if I wasn't here?"
"I knew you'd be here, spray-paint," the raspy voice hums against Keonho's chest. "You're always on this roof."
"I have a life!" Keonho stammers, his face burning under his mask.
The white Spider tries to push himself up, but his legs buckle immediately. Before he can hit the wet floor, Keonho catches him. Instinctively, Keonho scoops one arm under the white Spider’s knees and the other around his back, lifting him straight up in a bridal style.
The silence on the roof instantly becomes thick, suffocating, and deeply charged.
Instead of fighting it, the white Spider just goes completely soft in his arms. He rests his head lightly against Keonho's shoulder, his gloved hands sliding around Keonho's neck to hold on. He lets out a quiet, tired sigh that vibrates right through Keonho's chest.
"Well," the raspy voice hums softly, zero sarcasm in his tone for once. "This is surprisingly cozy."
Keonho’s entire brain burns to a crisp.
Up close, the heat radiating through both their damp suits is insane.
Oh god, Keonho panics internally, his knees practically shaking as he carries him toward the dry wall under the roof overhang. He smells like Seonghyeon. He sounds like Seonghyeon. But... what if he ISN'T Seonghyeon? Can’t be…What if I'm catching feelings for two completely different guys at the same time?! That's fucked up. I am a terrible person.
Keonho carefully, gently sets him down against the dry wall. Determined to lock in and actually pull this off, Keonho commits completely.
He plants one hand firmly against the brick right next to the white Spider's head, leaning in close, close enough that their mask lenses are inches apart. He lowers his voice into a effortless hum, letting his gaze drop intentionally to the white Spider's lips (which are covered) before locking back onto his eyes.
"You know," Keonho murmurs, leaning in just a an inch closer, "most guys usually buy me coffee before asking me to carry them like this. But... for you? I might make an exception."
He hangs there in the quiet space between them...
Dead quiet. Slowly, white spider guy tilts his head up, letting his eyes track the way Keonho is hovering over him.
A long, agonizing second passes.
The white Spider lets out a quiet, raspy exhale. "You tried so hard for that line, didn't you?"
Keonho's entire soul leaves his body.
And the smooth mask instantly shatters into panic. Keonho yanks his hand off the wall so fast he practically trips over his own feet, stumbling back two steps and dragging a hand down his face in agony.
"Oh-" Keonho squeaks out, his voice cracking horribly as he frantically rubs the back of his neck. "Was it that obvious?! Jesus Christ, just shoot me into space."
Still the laugh bubbles out from beneath the white mask, soft and genuinely fond.
"Hey," the white Spider hums, raspy and quiet. He reaches out, his gloved fingers lightly catching Keonho by the wrist to stop his flustered fidgeting. "It was cute, spray-paint. 6 out of 10."
Keonho freezes, staring down at their touching wrists, his face burning a bright, scorching red under his suit.
"Where'd you learn to fight like that, anyway?" the white Spider asks softly, his thumb gently brushing over Keonho's pulse point. "You actually looked really cool tonight."
Keonho's breath hitches. The goofy embarrassment slowly melts away, leaving him entirely exposed under the quiet heat between them.
"I... freaked out because you were hurt," Keonho admits quietly, his voice dropping low as he ducks his head. "I couldn't just watch you get beaten up…well- uhm i should probably get going since it’s all good..”
With an effortless, fluid movement, Keonho shoots his own web line to the thick structural beam directly above them. He springs upward, swings over and hooks his knees around the steel girder, dropping upside down right over the white Spider.
Keonho hangs suspended in the air, his masked face dangling upside down directly in front of the white Spider, looking at him with pure concern.
"Are you sure you can even swing home?" Keonho asks and leans down upside down to inspect the duct-taped wound on the white Spider's ribs. "Because if you pass out mid-air, I am not gonna be there to catch you next time."
The white Spider stays completely still. He looks up at Keonho, hanging upside down, totally unguarded, worrying about him with that familiar sweetness.
"Hey," the white Spider murmurs softly, his raspy voice dropping low.
"Yeah?" Keonho asks, tilting his upside-down head in confusion.
Without warning, the white Spider reaches up with both gloved hands. He slides them gently up to the sides of Keonho’s jaw and, in one smooth, shocking motion, rolls Keonho’s spray-painted mask up past his nose, exposing his lower, flustered face to the cold night air.
Keonho's breath hitches sharply. "Wait—what are you—"
Before Keonho can react, the white Spider reaches up to his own jaw. He doesn't take his mask off entirely, he just hooks two gloved fingers under the bottom hem, pulling it up just far enough to reveal his sharp jawline, his exact, clean cupid's bow, and those painfully familiar bare lips.
The white Spider pulls Keonho down into a deep kiss.
At first, Keonho’s brain shuts down at dizzying shock of it.
The white Spider’s lips are shockingly hot, taking control instantly. He tilts Keonho's upside-down face, his thumb presses possessively into Keonho's cheekbone while his tongue slides smoothly past Keonho’s parted lips. The taste of him floods Keonho's senses.
Keonho lets out a wrecked, muffled gasp straight into the kiss, his hands drop from his chest to grab blindly at the white Spider’s shoulders, clinging for dear life as his head spins wildly out of control.
He hangs in pure bliss. A superhero is kissing me. A really hot superhero is kissing me upside down.
Then, slow and agonizing, the gears in Keonho’s head finally start to turn.
Wait.
The scent... vanilla.
The sharp, perfect lip shape...
When the white Spider finally pulls back just an inch, his gloved fingers linger softly on Keonho's swollen, flushed lips. His smirk is exposed under the edge of his half-pulled mask and he looks dangerously satisfied.
"Thanks for the save, painter," the raspy voice hums directly against Keonho's mouth.
Keonho blinks, still floating in a daze. Painter.
The word hangs in the cold air.
Painter?
Keonho's eyes widen. His brain hits a massive brick wall, the final piece of the puzzle slamming into place. Literally NO ONE calls me painter except—
With one flick of his wrist, Seonghyeon tugs his mask back down over his jaw and leaps backward off the roof ledge into the open night.
As he catches himself on a web line, swinging backward into the fog, Seonghyeon tilts his head up toward the rafters, his voice echoing back with a teasing, wicked laugh through the rain.
"Oh, and painter? You don't have to keep calling me the white Spider," Seonghyeon calls out, his voice dripping with playful satisfaction. "Spider-Hyeon for you works just fine."
Seonghyeon vanishes into the dark.
Keonho is left hanging upside down from the iron beam, his mask pulled up over his nose, his lips tingling violently as his heart trashes against his ribs.
For a minute, Keonho just sways in the wind. Static fills his ears. His soul leaves his body, orbits Jupiter, and slams right back into his chest.
SPIDER-HYEON?! SEONGHYEON?! THAT WAS SEONGHYEON THE WHOLE TIME
Keonho’s eyes bulge out behind his half-rolled mask.
I WAS RIGHT! HE HAS BEEN SPIDER-MAN THIS ENTIRE TIME AND HE KNEW IT WAS ME?!
AND I CARRIED HIM BRIDAL-STYLE?! Keonho begins to hyperventilate, his hands flying to his face, grabbing his hair through his suit. I TRIED TO SMOOTH-TALK HIM WITH A 6-OUT-OF-10 PICKUP LINE. I REHEARSED THAT SHIT IN THE MIRROR. HE KNEW! HE WAS LAUGHING AT ME UNDER THAT MASK!
Wait, no, forget that- HE KISSED ME. WITH HIS ACTUAL MOUTH. HIS HOT, STUPID, VANILLA-SCENTED MOUTH.
Keonho lets out a high-pitched, strangled noise, his legs unhooking from the steel girder. He falls six feet, landing face-first onto the wet concrete with a wet and pathetic THUD.
He doesn't get up. He just lies flat on his stomach in the rain.
I am going to duel him. I am going to fight him in the street. I am going to marry him. I am going to bite his ankle. I'm transferring schools. I'm going to drop a brick on his head tomorrow morning and then kiss him on the mouth.
"SPIDER-HYEON?!" Keonho screams at the sky, his voice cracking into a hysterical, unhinged shriek as he violently kicks his feet against the roof floor. "SPIDER-HYEON?! ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?! I'M KILLING YOU! I'M ACTUALLY GOING TO KILL YOU SEONGHYEON! YOU FREAK! YOU MENACE! YOU ABSOLUTE LOSER! COME BACK HERE AND KISS ME AGAIN SO I CAN PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE!"
He turns and lays on his back, staring up at the sky. It takes a lot of effort and time for him to finally get his breath under control. “God, i am so so fucked.”
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