"hey, is this window open? i, uh, need a bit of help."
a sigh leaves your lips at the sight of your best friend, itadori yuji, or better known to the rest of new york, the friendly neighbourhood vigilante, spider-man, tapping on your window from the fire escape. it's almost comical how often this has become a common occurrence, to the point that the moment you hear that tell-tale knock against the glass, you scurry to find the first-aid box you've buried underneath your bed, behind boxes of clutter you swear you're going to clear one day.
once you managed to unearth it, you lay out the contents of the kit on your desk before heading over to your windowsill to unlock the latch. seeing that the lock has been opened, yuuji slides open the window and tumbles onto your bedroom floor with a soft 'oomf' and the grace of a baby bird learning to fly for the first time.
you would have thought by now he would have figured out a smoother way to slide in; however, much to your amusement, yuji has consistently managed to one-up himself each time in this category.
now safely hidden away in your bedroom, he rips off his mask with one hand and greets you with a boyish, albeit slightly bashful grin. he shakes his head to dislodge his hair from what you've affectionately (and teasingly) dubbed as 'mask-hair' as he gets up from the floor to walk over to his typical spot on your bed. the mattress bounces slightly with the addition of his weight as you take your place next to him, cradling his face in your hands as you examine him for injuries.
“you have got to stop coming in like this, yuu,” you muse as you run your finger tentatively against a cut on his forehead. he bites down a sharp wince at the sensation of your touch against the wound.
“through your window? uhh, i don’t think your parents would appreciate seeing spider-man pull up to their front door in the middle of the night,” he jokes, eyes drifting around your room as he takes in your all-too-familiar cluttered decor.
reaching over to your desk, you locate a pack of alcohol wipes and begin the process of cleaning up his cuts as carefully as you can to avoid causing him any more pain than necessary.
“no, doofus. i meant injured like this.” you can't help but roll your eyes playfully at yuji, a familiar smile gracing your features as you do so. once clean, you take a tube of antibacterial ointment, a cotton-bud and a handful of plasters as you continue to address his wounds.
yuji can still remember the first few times he came to you for patching up, and all you had were those silly hello kitty plasters from when your niece visited a few months ago. you were apologetic back then, but now, looking down at the plain ones you have in your kit ready for them, he can't help but miss the charm those had.
"if i didn't know you any better, i might even think you're getting injured on purpose to see me." he freezes up slightly at your words, shoulders tensing for a split second. still, thankfully you don't notice (or rather, you don't say anything, and yuuji can't decide which one would be worse or better). wiping away another smaller cut on his cheek, you continue, "which, by the way, makes no sense; we basically see each other every day anyway."
you're right. he can't get enough of you. he doesn't think he'll ever get enough of you. even now, seeing you like this is not enough. he wants to know what it's like to have you be the last thing he sees before he falls asleep and the first thing he sees when he wakes up. he wants to experience having you around him every waking moment so he never has to miss any moment in your life - good or bad; he doesn't care as long as it's you.
but ironically, he's scared. that's right, new york's favourite vigilante, the same one who beats up villains and stops armed bank robberies without breaking a sweat, is scared that his best friend doesn't feel the same way he does. funny, right? maybe if you knew it too, you might even laugh at him - like one of those real laughs that you let slip out when it's just you and him, and it's so infectious he can't help but laugh alongside you.
so because of that, he'll settle for this for now until he's a little bit braver - the two of you sitting next to each other as you fix him up in more ways than one.
though he wishes that supposed bravery would come sooner rather than later, because if he had any smidge of the bravery right now, he wouldn't be so afraid of the distance between the two of you. he wouldn't be tormented by the fact that all he wants in this moment is to lean in and press his lips against your ones, letting the taste of you wash over him like a tidal wave he wishes would sweep him up this very second. especially when you look so enticing right now, with your lips hanging open slightly, face frozen in the look you get when you're laser-focused on something. you're barely centimetres apart as you press a plaster on top of the scrape on his nosebridge. he wonders if he should just take the plunge now, but before he can even consider that thought, you move away to work on another injury.
and the moment, once again, slips through his fingers like sand.
"those guys hit really hard, y'know," he mumbles quietly under his breath as you take note of the blooming splotch of red on the side of his jaw that you recognise as the tell-tale sign of a bruise beginning to take form. there's no way you could sneak into the kitchen to get him an ice pack without waking up half the apartment, so unfortunately, yuji will just have to settle for the ice inside your water bottle pressed against it for now.
"did you at least give them hell back?" you ask, absent-mindedly rubbing your fingers against his sore knuckles through the fabric of his gloves. he wonders if you can feel the sweat threatening to form on his palm from having you so close to him, and he hopes to whatever is out there that if you do, you're not totally grossed out by it.
"of course!" he grins proudly at you, eyes lighting up with a sort of unbashed joy anyone would be jealous of. he leans in conspiratorially, hand covering one side of his face as he whispers to you like it's a secret, "you should see what the other guy looks like."
it's stupid. he knows you don't mean anything by it. yet that knowledge doesn't stop the way his heart speeds up at the sound of your praise and the growing flutter in his stomach. the words leave your lips so casually, as if they didn't even require any thought - like complimenting him is nothing but second nature to you, and he wishes so badly he could let out all the things he's been feeling tumble out of him as easily as you did.
but that's the problem: when you really mean something, all the weight behind it ends up making it sink straight down to your stomach like some sick sort of anchor you have to lug around with a smile.
oblivious to his inner turmoil, you give him a final once-over, examining your handy work (which is pretty alright if you do say so yourself) with a pleased expression. yuji just stares at you wide-eyed, too lost in you and your intoxicating presence that makes his head feel foggier than he would like, and he forgets that was supposed to be his cue to head back out. when you turn around from tidying up your first-aid kit back into the box you keep it in, you're surprised to still see him there on your bed.
a brief moment of silence passes between the two of you before you clear your throat in an attempt to break the ever-growing awkwardness from your current stalemate. "looks like you're good to go."
yuji blinks slowly, as if coming back to his senses from a long nap. when his mind finally reboots and can process what you're saying, he abruptly shoots up from the bed, swiping his mask off the floor as he stumbles back towards the window. he runs his calloused hands through his hair in a terrible attempt to play everything off as nothing. "oh yeah. thank you," he says clumsily, cursing under his breath when he hastily fumbles the latch for the 4th time in a row.
he stops dead in his tracks, one hand still clinging to his mask as he turns around to face you. before he can even react in time (stupid spider-senses), you're suddenly right next to him with your lips pressed tenderly against the skin of his cheek. the feeling lasts far too short for his liking; it's like he blinked and it was all over, gone too soon to differentiate it from his daydreams. though when you pull away, unlike before, you linger for a second longer, fingertips still holding onto his shoulder like some sort of tether (one he wants to tie you to forever).
"wh-what was that for?" he stutters out, his fingers moving with a mind of their own to gingerly touch where your lips were against his cheek a split second ago. from how his insides feel like they're burning up, he's sure that his face must just be absolutely red right now - probably red enough to rival the colour of his suit.
he braces himself for mischief, classic teasing, but when he opens his eyes, he's met with something different - contemplation. you gnaw on your bottom lip, a nervous habit of yours he first noticed when you two were up late studying for a subject you hated all those years ago, looking away for a second as if to gather your thoughts before speaking.
"good luck out there, yuji. i have a feeling you're going to need it."
he thinks that words are gonna fail him, specifically now when there's a strange lump in his throat he doesn't want to address in front of you, so yuji settles on a sharp nod and tight-lipped smile. you don't question it, though, as you return his gesture with a gentle smile and a wave goodbye as you see him out through the window.
and with a swift thwip, he swings back into the night skyline of new york with a renewed fire in his heart, ready to face whatever the city has waiting for him because now, there's someone he wants to come back to.
