v🕷️— texts with bestf!mark (who’s secretly spiderman) who’s secretly in love with you
part one • part two • part three • part four • part five
thump. thump. thump
your attention was taken away from your phone to the other side of your bedroom. you could barely make out the silhouette hunched over outside your window, body resting against the glass. you realised the thumping noise came from their head, continuously knocking with feigned strength. every instinct in your body told you to keep still and not move, but somewhere in your gut, you knew you had to open it.
you took the covers off and got up from the bed, timid steps approaching the window as your heart rapidly sped in your chest. the closer you got, the more you could see the figure now barely moving. a blurred mix of red and blue, bloody tears and holes along stretched fabric, tousled hair that covered half of a bruised face. but you could recognise him.
mark had spent his last remaining strength trying to get to you. the fight had rendered him completely weak; he could barely find any superhuman strength left to even keep his eyes open. but when your text came through his phone, he knew he had to see you. he knew he had to confess to everything, directly to you. nevermind that his head weighed like a tonne of bricks, or that he couldn’t walk in a straight line without his vision going blurry, or that he was sure his left eye was bleeding internally—mark had to see your face.
you turned the latch and pulled your window open, and mark came tumbling in with a disgruntled sound and a cloud of cement dust. from inside your room, he looked so out of place. he had spent half of his teenage life in here. the desk next to your bed was where the two of you did your physics homework, something mark would always end up doing for you. your mirror that hung from your bedroom door was where he took countless pictures with you, every single one saved in his favourites album. the left side of your bed that was unofficially his, a space that felt more like home than even his own apartment. but now, lying in a room that he could describe like the back of his hand, mark felt like he didn’t belong there.
“mark,” you said softly, a hand on his shoulder. he winced once, and you backed your hand away from him. he looked terrible, defeated. from the fight or from something else? even he didn’t know. his head was still on the floor, his body lying awkwardly sideways. “i’m gonna help you sit up, okay?” you whispered to him. he nodded faintly.
with a little struggle from him, mark eventually sat up and was leaning against your wall. the faint light from your nightlight cast a soft glow over him. you could make out the suit you had only seen on the news, the infamous spider logo that rested dead centre on his chest. several cuts and bruises were scattered along his face and neck. a long tear from the edge of his shoulder blade ran all the way down to his lower waist, a bright red gash that had dried blood along its crevices. mark’s eyes were closed, yet you could still make out the dark circles under his eyes that showed fatigue. he was in a cold sweat, the loss of blood making his complexion dangerously pale. it suddenly struck you how real this was. for five years, your best friend, the boy you had known all your life, was spiderman. you sat in front of him, speechless.
mark noticed a change in your breathing and opened his eyes to look at you. how your eyes were glued to his chest, how your fists were clenched in your lap, how your heart raced at lightning speed. a new pain spread across his body, a feeling of dread that imbedded itself inside the pit of his stomach. the gash along his ribcage made it hard for him to differentiate between real pain and heartache, but either way mark didn’t want to feel it anymore.
he reached for your hands, but you got up before he could touch you. a sniffle escaped you as you dusted your hands off against your pyjamas. “i’m going to get my first-aid kit,” you said, hoping to escape to the bathroom to catch your breath. mark didn’t say anything as you left to go get your med kit, he didn’t say anything as you silently guided him to sit on your bed, he didn’t say anything as you carefully pulled his suit halfway down his torso, nor did he say anything as you quietly cleaned his wound with shaking hands. mark thought about how it would have been better to just suffer the fate of the mechanical bull than be here with you right now.
“are you just gonna sit there like an idiot, or are you gonna explain yourself to me?” you asked him, failing to sound stern. you purposely dabbed the antiseptic closer to his wound, making him wince. you figured he deserved it after keeping this from you. but the sound he made made your heart sink, and instant regret washed over you. “sorry,” you mumbled.
“no, no. i deserved that,” he finally spoke, voice hoarse and restrained. he tried to turn to face you, but every move he made felt like another fatal blow. you switched places from sitting behind him to sitting in front of him, though you still couldn’t look him in the eye. you fiddled with the kit in your hand and pulled a roll of bandage out to wrap around his wound. but mark’s hands stopped you. he gently placed them over yours, still warm. still familiar.
“look at me,” he said your name like it was a prayer. a silent plea of forgiveness. reluctantly, you brought your eyes to meet his. at that moment, everything stopped. the anger, the betrayal, the fear and worry. it all faded. now that mark was sitting in front of you like this, completely and utterly vulnerable after facing a brush with death, you didn’t care anymore.
“i thought you were dead,” your voice faltered, exposing your sadness. the crack in your voice sent a pang through mark’s chest; somehow it was ten times worse than every wound on his body. his hands were still in yours, clutching onto them like he was tethered to you.
“i’m sorry,” he said softly. “fuck, i’m so sorry,”
a stray tear fell from your eyes, and mark was quick to wipe it with his finger. his brain couldn’t find the right words. he had so much he wanted to say to you, but nothing could cover the fact that he had kept a portion of his life a secret from you. you, whom he had promised to never hide anything from since you were kids. you, who had spilt your own secrets to him without holding back. you were an open book to him, and up until now, you thought he was an open book to you.
“why? how did you even— i mean when did this start? how long were you gonna keep this from me?,” questions flooded your mind and threatened to drown you. you had so much to ask him, so much you wanted to know. how did this happen? when did it happen? who else knew? he could tell by your expression that you had questions, but those could be answered some other time.
“i know you have a lot of questions right now, but can i just say something first?” mark wanted to clear the air between you before he answered any of your questions. you agreed, against your better judgement, but you knew he wanted to be honest with you first.
“okay um,” he cleared his throat, eyes blinking as he tilted his head in the way you knew he did whenever he was nervous. a habit he had developed in high school and never really got rid of. “first of all, i’m sorry.” he started.
“you said that already.” you deadpanned. he sighed, head down.
“i know but i don’t know what else to say. there aren’t any words to describe how sorry i am. i want you to know that i just wanted to keep you safe,” he continued, his hands still holding yours.
“the moment it happened, i ran right to you. but then, every single fibre of my body told me not to tell you. my heart literally had to fight with my brain. i knew that if i told you about it, it would open up a whole new world for the both of us, and somehow i knew it was going to be dangerous. i couldn’t risk that,” his brown eyes bore into yours, the mole under his right eye catching your attention. you listened intently, nodding along slowly and occasionally tightening the hold of his hand in yours.
“i can protect myself, mark, you know that—” he interrupted you.
“i know you can. but i can’t.” mark took a second to collect himself, rearranging the words to fit the script in his head.
“i can’t imagine anything happening to you because of me. nothing good ever comes from finding out someone you know is a superhero. i mean, look at every comic i have ever read ever. the hero’s loved ones always get hurt. or worse, they die.” his voice betrayed him at the end, pained and cracked like shattered glass.
“be serious, mark,” you sighed.
“i am serious,” he cried out. you knew he was, but something about the way he spoke to you seemed like there was something else he was hiding.
“what aren’t you telling me?” you asked him. this made mark look away from you and out the window. you took a moment to admire his profile. how his jaw was clenched in thought, how the cut above his lip distracted you the entire time he was talking, and how his dark hair looked messy yet still complemented his features. you always thought mark was attractive. even when he had unflattering braces or wore his thick prescription glasses before opting for lenses, though he still wore them sometimes because he knew you preferred him with them.
“i’m not mad about the whole spiderman thing anymore, okay? i get it; you kept it from me to protect me. i know. but god, mark, would it have killed you to at least let me know in a less life-threatening way? you almost died, and i had to spend a whole day worrying about whether or not you were alive, and on top of that, finding out my best friend is spiderman? i mean who even does that—”
before you could finish, mark had pulled his hands from yours and pulled you in for a kiss. his palms were on either side of your face, holding you steady as his lips pressed faintly to yours. you were stunned for a moment, but you kissed him back.
the kiss was soft and tender. it conveyed years of pining, yearning for something that was so close yet so out of reach in fear of losing it forever. mark thought back to the first moment he wanted to kiss you. freshman year of high school. right here in your room. you had been laughing all night, homework abandoned on the desk as you clutched your stomach from the joke mark had made. you loved how much mark could make you laugh even with the most stupid thing, and you told him you loved him on instinct. but something about him changed that night. you had said those words a million times to him. but that night, laughing together with you in comfort made mark realise he wanted to be the one to make you laugh forever.
you broke apart from him for air, forehead resting against his own. he kept his hands in place, his thumb softly caressing your cheek. you couldn’t move your mouth; your tongue was electrified. the air was buzzing, and at that moment you realised he was half naked in your bedroom, covered in dry blood. but mark didn’t care. all that mattered was that he had finally kissed you.
slowly, he backed away from you to read your reaction. your eyes were closed, lips still slightly pouted. mark didn’t know what to do, so he just sat there quietly.
“i love you.”
your eyes snapped open. you blinked up at him slowly, registering what he had just said. mark didn’t look phased. he looked relieved even.
“what?” you whispered.
“i’ve always loved you. it was always you,” he said your name again. it sounded like the sweetest music; the way he said your name was your new favourite song.
“mark…”
“i know, i know. it’s kinda fucked up of me to say that when i just told you i’m the city’s masked vigilante while also bleeding on your bed, but—"
“i love you too,” you said back, a small smile on your lips. a blush dusted your cheeks; even in the dark room, mark could make it out. just how beautiful you looked like this.
“not in a friend way. like a…” you paused, trying to find the right words as mark had a silent breakdown in front of you.
“like a ‘i want to wake up beside you every day and be able to kiss you whenever i want’ kind of way. does that make sense?” embarrassment crept up your neck and made your ears burn red. you didn’t know what else to do, so you buried your head in your hands.
mark chuckled, warm hands coming up to guide your head to face him. his eyes shone like stars, bright and so full of life. for a second, the two of you forgot that he was essentially bleeding out on your bedsheets, but neither of you cared. you leaned in again, closing the gap between you.
this time the kiss was deeper. like it held a different meaning. a promise. a pact. you two were now in this together. despite the new dangers, the overbearing pressure and the threat of losing each other, you both had everything you had ever wanted. right here.
a/n: hi lovelies here’s the very much awaited chapter!! and its written!! hope you guys like it im currently writing this at 1am lol and sadly this story is coming to an end :(( wc is 2.5k btw LMAO
Mark had to cast a spell with Doctor Strange to make sure everyone forgot he's Spiderman, including you, his girlfriend. Slowly but surely, you find your way back to each other.
18.2k, No smut, just fluff and angst. First person pov.
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Hi. You don’t know me, but you used to.
The first sentence in the letter always starts the same.
Hi. You don’t know me, but you used to.
Mark stares at the sentence until the ink bleeds slightly into the paper, his grip tightening without him realizing. The cheap desk in his one-bedroom apartment wobbles under his elbow. Outside, a siren wails somewhere in the city, fading into the hum of traffic and distant voices.
He exhales slowly.
Starts again.
Hi. You don’t know me but you used to. My name is Mark Lee—
The pen stops.
It always stops there.
Because what comes after that? How do you explain a life that technically never existed? How do you tell someone you were everything to them… without sounding like a stranger who’s lost his mind?
He crumples the paper, tossing it toward the overflowing bin. It misses. They always miss when he's like this.
The room is dim, lit only by a flickering lamp and the glow of the city sneaking through half-broken blinds. His Spider-Man suit hangs by the window, still slightly torn at the shoulder from earlier. He hasn’t had the energy to fix it yet.
He hasn’t had the energy for much of anything lately.
Except watching you.
You pull your jacket tighter around yourself as you walk down your street, the night air brushing cool against your skin. It’s quiet—too quiet, but not enough to make you afraid.
Just… aware.
There’s that feeling again.
Like someone’s there.
Not close enough to hear. Not close enough to see. But there.
Your steps slow for a second, eyes flicking behind you. Empty sidewalk. Parked cars. A streetlight buzzing softly.
You shake your head.
“Get it together,” you mumble to yourself.
And yet…
The feeling doesn’t go away.
From above, Mark doesn’t move.
Perched on the edge of the building across the street, he watches you walk—careful, steady, memorizing every small detail like he’s afraid the world might take this away too.
The way you tuck your hands into your sleeves.
The slight furrow in your brows when you think someone’s watching.
You always used to do that.
His chest tightens behind the mask.
“Yeah,” he whispers softly, voice barely audible under the fabric. “I’m here.”
You can’t hear him.
You’ll never hear him say your name the way he used to.
Not unless—
No.
He shuts the thought down immediately.
That choice is already made. There’s no undoing it. Not without risking everything all over again.
So he stays where he is.
Watching.
Waiting.
Protecting.
Always protecting.
You reach your door, fumbling slightly with your keys. For a brief second, you pause—glancing over your shoulder again. Your eyes scan the empty street, lingering just a little longer this time.
Mark freezes.
Something in his chest sparks—hope, sharp and sudden.
Do you feel it?
Do you remember?
But then you shake your head again, unlocking the door and slipping inside.
The light clicks on.
The curtains close.
And just like that—
You’re gone.
Mark waits a few more seconds. Just in case.
He always does.
Only when he’s sure you’re safe does he move, shooting a web and swinging away into the night. The city rushes past him in blurs of gold and shadow, wind cutting through him, grounding him.
This is what he has now.
Not laughter. Not shared secrets. Not your hand in his.
Just distance.
And duty.
Back in his apartment, the silence feels heavier than before.
He lands softly by the window, peeling off the mask. His hair is damp with sweat, his face drawn, eyes tired in a way sleep hasn’t been able to fix.
He glances at the desk.
At the pile of failed letters.
At your name, scribbled over and over in the margins of crumpled pages.
Mark walks over slowly, sitting down again. He picks up a fresh sheet of paper, smoothing it out carefully like it matters—like this one might be different.
The pen hovers.
For a long time, he just… breathes.
Then...
Hi.
His hand trembles slightly.
You don’t know me but you used to.
A pause.
Longer this time.
His jaw tightens.
My name is Mark Lee.
The words sit there.
Lonely.
Incomplete.
His throat burns.
Because the next sentence should be easy.
It should be something like:
I love you.
But you don’t know him.
And love, coming from a stranger… isn’t love at all.
It’s just confusion. Maybe even fear.
So instead, he writes
I just wanted to make sure you’re safe.
His breath catches.
That, at least, is still true.
That will always be true.
No matter what the world remembers.
No matter what you remember.
Mark leans back slightly, staring at the page like it might somehow fill itself in if he waits long enough.
It doesn’t.
It never does.
Outside, the city keeps moving.
Inside, he sits there,
caught between a past that’s gone
and a love that refuses to leave.
The bell above the café door jingles softly as Mark pushes it open.
Warmth hits him first—the smell of coffee, steamed milk, something sweet in the oven. It’s familiar in a way that aches, like a memory just out of reach.
And then he sees you.
You’re behind the counter, sleeves pushed up slightly, hair falling just the way it always used to when you got busy. There’s a light in your eyes as you laugh—easy, effortless.
But it’s not because of him.
Mark stops mid-step.
There’s a guy leaning against the counter, grinning at you like he’s already decided he likes everything he sees. He says something—Mark can’t hear it from here—but you laugh again, softer this time, a little shy.
Something sharp twists in Mark’s chest.
It’s not fair.
The thought comes fast, ugly, selfish—but he can’t stop it.
That’s my place.
Not in a possessive way. Not like you belong to him.
But that moment—the way you smile, the way your eyes crinkle just slightly—that was something he used to earn. Something he used to protect. Something he used to know.
Now he’s just… standing there.
A stranger.
Invisible in a world he saved.
Mark swallows hard, forcing his feet to move, stepping aside so he’s not blocking the door. He lingers near the wall, pretending to check something on his phone, but his eyes keep drifting back to you.
The guy finally leaves, tossing you one last smile before pushing the door open and disappearing into the street.
Mark exhales.
He hadn’t even realized he’d been holding his breath.
This… this isn’t something he can keep doing.
Watching from rooftops. Standing in corners. Writing letters he’ll never give you.
Living a life where he exists around you—but never with you.
He loves being Spider-Man.
He really does.
Saving people. Doing the right thing. Carrying something bigger than himself—it matters.
But he matters too.
Or at least… he used to.
Mark straightens slightly, something shifting in his chest. Not the sharp ache this time—but something steadier.
A decision.
I can’t have what we had, he thinks.
But maybe… I can have something.
Even if it’s small.
Even if it’s just 'hi.'
He doesn’t remember leaving the café.
Only the rush of wind against his face as he swings through the city, faster than usual, like he’s chasing something before he loses his nerve.
Back in his apartment, he lands a little harder than intended.
The room looks the same. Feels the same.
But he doesn’t sit down this time.
Doesn’t reach for a pen.
Instead, he moves.
Quick. Purposeful.
The mask comes off, tossed aside. He runs a hand through his hair, stepping into the small bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror.
For a second… he almost doesn’t recognize the person looking back.
“Okay,” he mutters quietly. “Okay.”
His voice sounds strange without the filter of the suit. Too raw. Too real.
He fixes his hair—again, and again, until it sits just right. Changes his shirt twice before landing on the black one.
The one you loved.
You used to say it made him look soft.
He hesitates for half a second—then reaches for the cologne. Just a little. Not too much.
His hands are shaking.
“Relax,” he whispers, letting out a breath that doesn’t quite steady him.
This shouldn’t be harder than fighting villains.
But it is.
Because this time there’s no mask to hide behind.
The bell jingles again.
You glance up automatically, mid-sentence, your eyes landing on him.
Mark smiles.
Or at least—he tries to.
It’s a little stiff at first, a little unsure. But it’s there.
“Hey,” he says, voice softer than he expected. “Uh—can I get a coffee?”
You blink at him for a second, not in recognition, just… normal curiosity. The kind you’d give any new customer.
“Yeah, of course,” you say, returning the smile easily. “What kind?”
He steps closer to the counter, heart pounding so loudly he’s convinced you can hear it.
“Just—uh—regular? I mean, not regular, I—whatever you’d recommend.”
Smooth.
Very smooth.
You let out a small laugh, and it hits him harder than anything else today.
God, he missed that sound.
“Okay,” you tease lightly. “And what milk do you want?”
Milk.
Right.
Mark blinks.
“I—uh—” His brain completely blanks. “Normal?”
You raise an eyebrow, amused. “Normal?”
“Like—milk milk,” he corrects quickly, wincing at himself. “Regular milk.”
“Got it,” you say, smiling as you turn to make it.
He exhales, shoulders dropping slightly.
Still alive. Good.
You hand him the cup a minute later, fingers brushing his for the briefest second.
It’s nothing.
It’s everything.
“Here you go,” you say.
“Thanks,” he replies, quieter now.
For a split second, you look at him, really look.
And something in him aches with hope.
Please.
Just—something.
But then—
You smile politely and turn away, already calling over your shoulder, “Hyuck, do we have more lids in the back?”
And just like that—
The moment passes.
Mark nods to himself slightly, like he expected that. Like it doesn’t hurt.
He moves to a table near the window, sitting down slowly, wrapping his hands around the warm cup.
From here, he can hear you.
You and Donghyuck talking. Laughing. Bickering over something small and stupid.
Normal.
So painfully normal.
He pulls out his phone, unlocking it just to have something to look at but his eyes aren’t on the screen.
They’re on you.
On the way you lean against the counter.
On the way you laugh without holding back.
On the way you exist in a world where he doesn’t.
And yet for the first time in a long time...
He’s not watching from a distance.
He’s here.
Close enough to hear your voice without wind rushing past his ears.
Close enough to feel… something other than empty.
Mark takes a slow sip of his coffee, letting the warmth settle into him.
It’s not what he had.
Not even close.
But it’s something.
And for now—
Something is enough to keep him from breaking.
Weeks pass in small, careful pieces.
Mark becomes part of your routine the same way the morning rush does—predictable, constant, almost comforting.
The bell jingles.
He walks in.
Black shirt sometimes, sometimes a hoodie, hair a little messy like he didn’t try too hard—but you’ve noticed he does try. Just not in an obvious way.
“Hey,” he says, soft smile, every single time.
“Hey,” you reply, already reaching for his usual.
You don’t even ask anymore.
“Regular milk, right?” you tease one morning.
He lets out a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. Milk milk.”
It becomes a thing between you.
Small. Easy.
Safe.
From behind the counter, you watch him sometimes.
Not obviously.
Just… when you’re waiting for the espresso to pull, or when Donghyuck disappears into the back.
Mark always sits by the window.
Sometimes he scrolls on his phone. Sometimes he writes—pages and pages, head bent slightly, brows furrowed in concentration like the words matter more than anything else in the room.
And when he leaves he always smiles.
Always waves.
Like it’s important.
Like you’re important.
You don’t know why that sticks with you.
But it does.
Mark on the other hand notices everything.
The way you hum under your breath when it’s slow.
The way you sigh when the line stretches to the door.
The necklace around your neck.
His necklace.
He sees it the first time and nearly forgets how to breathe.
You still wear it.
Every day.
The small chain catches the light when you move, the pendant resting right where he remembers it.
His fingers twitch slightly around his cup.
Do you even know where it’s from?
Do you remember who gave it to you?
He wants to ask.
God, he wants to ask.
But what would he say?
Hey, that necklace? I gave it to you when you said you’d never take it off.
He swallows it down.
Like everything else.
One afternoon, after he leaves, Donghyuck leans against the counter, watching the door swing shut behind him.
He hums thoughtfully.
“You know,” he says, casual but not really, “I think he has a crush on you.”
You glance up, immediately shaking your head. “No, he doesn’t.”
“He so does.”
“He’s just nice,” you insist, grabbing a cloth and wiping down the counter. “Some people are just… nice.”
Donghyuck snorts. “Yeah, and some people come in every single day, order the same thing, stare at you like you hung the moon, and then leave smiling like an idiot.”
You try not to react.
You really do.
“He does not stare at me.”
Donghyuck raises an eyebrow.
You roll your eyes, turning away before he can see the slight smile tugging at your lips.
Because—
Okay.
Maybe Mark is…
cute.
In a quiet way.
The kind that sneaks up on you.
But you don’t say that out loud.
Instead, you shrug lightly. “He’s just a regular.”
“Mm-hmm,” Donghyuck hums, clearly unconvinced.
The next day, something feels… off.
You notice it the second Mark walks in.
He still smiles.
Still says, “Hey.”
But it’s softer. Slower.
There are faint shadows under his eyes, his movements just a little more tired than usual.
You notice.
Of course you notice.
But you don’t say anything.
You just make his drink.
Slide it across the counter.
“Here.”
“Thanks,” he says, fingers brushing yours again.
You linger for half a second.
Just a second.
Then you pull away.
It happens quickly.
Too quickly.
Mark reaches into his bag, fumbling slightly, probably for his pen—and his elbow nudges the cup.
You both see it at the same time.
The tilt.
The fall.
The inevitable spill—
Except—
It doesn’t hit the ground.
Mark catches it mid-air.
Fast.
Too fast.
A few drops still splash out, darkening the floor, but the cup stays intact in his hand.
There’s a beat of silence.
Then he’s moving, hurried, almost panicked.
“Sorry—sorry, I’ve got it,” he says quickly, setting the cup down and grabbing napkins.
“It’s fine,” you say immediately, stepping around the counter. “It’s my job, don’t worry—”
But he’s already taking the paper towels from your hands, crouching down, wiping the spill himself.
“I’ll clean it,” he insists, voice tight.
You pause.
Watching him.
Something about the way he moves—the speed, the precision, the instinct—
It feels…
familiar.
A strange sensation settles over you.
Like a memory just out of reach.
“Hey,” you say slowly.
He freezes slightly, still crouched.
“You have good reflexes,” you continue, tilting your head. “Have we met before?”
Mark’s heart stutters.
He looks up at you.
For a second—just a second—there’s something in his eyes.
Hope.
Fear.
Everything at once.
“I mean,” you add quickly, laughing a little, “I know you’ve been coming in for weeks. But like—before that? Outside the coffee shop? Maybe we had a class together or something?”
The air feels too still.
Mark stands, tossing the used paper towels into the trash.
“Maybe,” he says, keeping his voice light. Casual. “I meet a lot of people.”
It’s a terrible answer.
He knows it is.
You narrow your eyes slightly, but there’s no real suspicion—just curiosity.
“Hm,” you hum. “Maybe.”
You nod toward the sink. “Go wash your hands.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says automatically.
The words slip out so easily it almost scares him.
You blink.
Another flicker of that strange feeling.
But it’s gone as quickly as it came.
While he’s gone, you glance at the table.
At the paper he left behind.
You don’t mean to read it.
You really don’t.
But the words are right there.
Hi, my name is Mark Lee.
Your breath catches slightly.
You repeat it in your head.
Mark Lee.
Something about it…
You frown faintly.
It feels familiar.
Not in a clear, obvious way.
But like a name you’ve heard before.
Like a song you almost remember.
Mark comes back, drying his hands.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
You look up at him.
Study his face for just a second longer than usual.
Then you smile.
“Yeah,” you say lightly. “Just… your name.”
He stiffens.
“My name?”
“Yeah,” you shrug, tapping the paper. “It sounds familiar.”
The world seems to hold its breath.
Mark doesn’t move.
Doesn’t blink.
“Does it?” he asks quietly.
You nod, though there’s uncertainty in it. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m imagining it.”
Maybe you are.
Or maybe—
Somewhere deep inside you—
Something is trying to come back.
And for the first time since everything was erased—
Mark lets himself feel it.
Hope.
For the past couple of months, something hasn’t felt… right.
Not wrong in a loud, obvious way. Nothing you could point to and say, there, that’s the problem. It’s quieter than that. Subtle. Like a song playing just a little off-key in the background of your life.
You notice it in small things.
A bracelet sitting on your dresser—delicate, pretty, yours—but you don’t remember where it came from.
A book tucked into your shelf you don’t remember putting there.
Mom says she didn’t buy it. Dad shrugs, says maybe it was a gift. From who?
You don’t know.
And that’s the thing.
There are… gaps.
Not huge ones. Not enough to scare you, not enough to send you spiraling. Just little pockets of missing pieces, like someone took scissors to your memories and cut out random moments for no reason at all.
Your last birthday.
You remember the cake. Your family. Donghyuck complaining about something stupid like always.
But there’s this feeling—
like someone else was there.
Someone important.
Someone who should be easy to remember.
And yet…
Nothing.
You sit on the edge of your bed, frowning slightly as you try to piece it together.
But then you shake it off.
Because this is New York.
In a world with the Avengers flying overhead, alien invasions, time travel rumors whispered like urban legends—memory being a little fuzzy doesn’t feel like the strangest thing that could happen.
Maybe it’s stress.
You’re young. You’re figuring life out. That’s enough to mess with anyone’s head.
So you let it go.
Or at least—
you try to.
By the time you’re getting ready for your shift, the feeling has dulled again, tucked neatly into the back of your mind.
You smooth out your clothes, grab your bag, and catch your reflection in the mirror.
There’s a small smile on your face.
You pause.
It grows just a little.
Because—
You’re thinking about him.
Mark.
Your new regular.
You don’t even realize how often he crosses your mind now until moments like this.
The way he walks in like he’s trying not to take up too much space.
The way he smiles—soft, a little shy, like it means something every time.
The way he stutters sometimes when you ask him simple questions, like you’ve somehow made him nervous just by existing.
It’s… cute.
Really cute.
And kind of—
You bite your lip slightly, shaking your head at yourself.
But still…
There’s something about him.
Something you can’t quite explain.
You don’t know what he does. You don’t know much about his life outside of those brief conversations about weather and rush hours and the occasional complaint about how busy the city gets.
You want to ask.
You’re curious.
But you don’t want to push.
Don’t want to scare him off.
Because selfishly—
you like that he comes in.
You like that little moment in your day where the bell rings and you know it’s him.
And now you know his name.
Mark Lee.
You say it quietly to yourself as you walk down the street, testing the way it feels.
“Mark Lee…”
It rolls off your tongue so easily.
Too easily.
Your steps slow slightly.
A strange feeling curls in your chest.
Like you’ve said it before.
Not just once.
But a hundred times.
A thousand.
Softly. Laughing. Maybe whispered into the quiet of a moment that mattered.
You frown.
You shake your head quickly, brushing it off with a small huff of air.
It’s a common name.
Mark.
Lee.
In New York City?
There are probably hundreds of them.
Thousands, even.
So yeah.
Of course it feels familiar.
Anything is possible in a city like this.
But as you push open the café door, the bell chiming above you—
There’s still that feeling.
Lingering.
Soft.
Unfinished.
Like a memory waiting—
just on the other side of your reach.
The bell jingles like it always does.
Mark is already there.
Same seat by the window. Same cup in his hands. Same quiet presence that somehow feels… steady now. Familiar.
You catch his eye as you tie your apron, giving him a quick smile. He returns it instantly, like he’s been waiting for it.
Donghyuck notices.
Of course he does.
He dries his hands on a towel, glancing between you and Mark with a look that already means trouble.
“Don’t,” you warn under your breath.
“I didn’t even say anything.”
“You were about to.”
He grins.
And then before you can stop him, he walks right over and drops into the chair across from Mark like he owns the place.
Mark blinks.
“Oh uh hi.”
“Hi,” Donghyuck says easily, leaning back like this is the most natural thing in the world. “You mind?”
Mark shakes his head quickly. “No no, it’s fine.”
There’s a moment where Mark just… looks at him.
And something flickers across his face.
Recognition.
Not conscious. Not clear.
But there.
Because this...
This is familiar.
Donghyuck, inserting himself into situations he wasn’t invited into. Asking questions he probably shouldn’t. Pushing just enough to get a reaction.
That’s how he found out the truth the first time.
Mark almost smiles at the memory.
“What’s your deal?” Donghyuck asks, blunt as ever.
Mark chokes slightly on his drink. “My deal?”
“Yeah. You come here every day, sit in the same spot, write mysterious stuff, smile at her like she’s the sun” he jerks his head toward you “and then leave. I’m curious.”
Mark’s ears go red.
“I don’t—” he starts, then stops, clearly flustered. “I just like the coffee.”
Donghyuck raises an eyebrow. “Sure.”
Mark frowns slightly, brows furrowing in that quiet, almost unintentional way he does when he’s annoyed but doesn’t say anything.
It makes Donghyuck grin.
God, he’s cute.
So different from him.
Where Donghyuck is loud, Mark is soft.
Where Donghyuck pokes and prods, Mark absorbs, thinks, chooses his words carefully—if he even says them at all.
“You new to the city?” Donghyuck asks, tilting his head.
Mark hesitates for half a second. “Kind of.”
“That explains it,” Donghyuck nods. “You’ve got that ‘I don’t know anyone but I’m trying’ vibe.”
Mark lets out a quiet huff of a laugh, looking down at his cup.
“Something like that.”
They talk.
Or… Donghyuck talks.
Mark answers.
Short sentences. Careful ones. But he doesn’t shut down. Doesn’t pull away.
And the more it goes on, the more something settles in his chest.
Because he knows this.
Knows the rhythm of Donghyuck’s voice. The way he fills silence without even trying. The way conversations feel less like effort and more like… momentum.
It’s been so long since he’s had this.
Something normal.
Something easy.
By the time Donghyuck stands up, stretching slightly, his break clearly over, he glances down at Mark again.
And pauses.
Because Mark looks…
Content.
Not just polite.
Not just “that was fine.”
But genuinely—quietly—happy.
Like that short conversation meant more than it should have.
Donghyuck notices everything.
“…You’re interesting,” he says, narrowing his eyes slightly, but not in a bad way.
Mark blinks. “Oh.”
“I’ll be back,” Donghyuck adds casually, like it’s already decided.
Mark nods before he can stop himself.
“Okay.”
Donghyuck slips into the back where you’re restocking cups.
“Well?” you ask immediately.
He leans against the counter, thoughtful for once.
“I think he doesn’t have many friends.”
You pause. “What?”
“Yeah,” he shrugs. “Or he’s new. Or both. But he’s… I don’t know. He seemed really happy just talking.”
You glance out toward the front, where Mark is back to sitting quietly, phone in hand.
Your chest softens slightly.
“Hm.”
Donghyuck watches your face, then smirks. “What?”
“Nothing,” you say quickly, turning back to your task.
“Anyway,” he continues, “we should talk to him more. Maybe hang out outside of work. Get to know him.”
You let out a small laugh. “Why? So you can interrogate him in a different location?”
“Exactly.”
You roll your eyes.
“And,” Donghyuck adds casually, “maybe he’ll get over his crush on you.”
You shove him immediately. “He does not have a crush on me.”
“He does.”
“He doesn’t.”
“He does.”
“He’s just nice!”
Donghyuck laughs, holding his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. Fine. He’s ‘just nice.’”
You glare at him, but there’s no real heat behind it.
Then, after a second, you sigh.
“…But yeah. I’m down to be friends.”
The words come easier than you expect.
Like the idea of knowing Mark—really knowing him—feels right.
Natural.
Like something you were supposed to do a long time ago.
Out front, Mark glances toward the back where you disappeared.
He doesn’t know what you’re saying.
Doesn’t know what’s about to change.
But for the first time in a long time—
He’s not just watching your life from the outside.
He’s being pulled into it.
Slowly.
Carefully.
But finally—
He’s getting closer.
It comes back to him in flashes.
Not the loud, world-saving moments.
Not the battles, or the fear, or the choices that cost him everything.
But something quieter.
Softer.
The first time he met you.
It was two years ago.
A lecture hall that was just a little too cold, filled with half-awake students and the low hum of side conversations. Mark had been sitting near the middle, notebook open, pretending to pay attention while his mind drifted elsewhere.
Then your professor clapped their hands.
“Alright—pairs. Final project. Post-conflict justice. You’ll present in four weeks.”
Groans filled the room.
Mark barely had time to process it before you slid into the seat next to him.
“Guess we’re partners,” you said, offering a small smile.
And that was it.
That was all it took.
He was gone.
You were easy to talk to.
That’s what he remembers most.
Not intimidating. Not cold. Just… open. Curious. The kind of person who made conversations feel like something to enjoy, not survive.
What started as discussing case studies somehow drifted.
It always did with you.
One minute it was restorative justice, the next it was media narratives, and then—
“Okay but like,” you said, tapping your pen against your notebook, “in a city like New York, how does the legal system even keep up with superheroes?”
Mark blinked.
“…Superheroes?”
You grinned. “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it.”
He had.
A lot more than you knew.
Your eyes lit up slightly. “Like Spider-Man. He’s basically operating outside the law, right? But people still love him.”
Mark felt his chest tighten.
There it was.
He tried to play it cool. “What do you think about him?”
You shrugged lightly.
“I think he’s brave,” you said simply. “And he does good. That’s… pretty admirable.”
Mark nodded slowly.
But something in him—something selfish, something hopeful—wanted more.
“That’s all?” he asked before he could stop himself.
You glanced at him, then shrugged again, softer this time.
“I mean…” You leaned back slightly, thinking. “I also think it must be a lot.”
Mark’s breath caught.
“A lot?”
“Yeah,” you said. “That kind of pressure? Always having to be the one who shows up, who saves people, who does the right thing?” You shook your head a little. “That’s heavy.”
He stayed quiet.
Listening.
Really listening.
“I just hope,” you continued, voice gentler now, “that he has a good support system. People he can rely on.”
Mark looked down at his notebook.
At his hands.
At the life he didn’t talk about.
“…Why?” he asked quietly.
You gave him a look like it was obvious.
“Because that kind of thing gets lonely,” you said. “And no one should have to carry all of that by themselves.”
Something shifted in him then.
Something deep.
Something that stayed.
Then, just as quickly, you grinned again—lightening the mood like you always did.
“But also,” you added, lowering your voice slightly like you were sharing a secret, “I hope whoever’s under that mask is getting some.”
Mark choked.
“W-what?”
You laughed. “What? I’m serious. You’re telling me someone that committed to saving the city doesn’t deserve a little—”
“Okay,” Mark cut in quickly, face burning red, laughing nervously. “I get it.”
You laughed harder.
And just like that—
The moment passed.
You moved on.
But he didn’t.
He never did.
A year later, you were sitting on his bed.
Closer than you’d ever been back then.
Not just partners.
Not just friends.
Something more.
Everything, really.
His heart had been racing just as hard as it was that first day—maybe even more.
“Can I tell you something?” he asked.
You nodded immediately. “Always.”
And that’s when he told you.
Everything.
Who he was.
What he carried.
What it meant.
He expected fear.
Shock.
Maybe even distance.
But you just looked at him.
Really looked at him.
“You idiot,” you whispered, eyes soft.
His stomach dropped. “What?”
“You’ve been carrying all of that alone?” you said, reaching for his face. “Mark…”
And just like that—
He wasn’t alone anymore.
The memory fades.
The city comes back.
Wind. Night. Distance.
Mark sits perched on the edge of a building, mask on, watching as you unlock your door and step inside.
The light flicks on.
You’re safe.
You’re always safe.
He exhales, something warm settling in his chest.
Because today you smiled at him. You said his name. You almost remembered.
It’s not the same.
It never will be.
But it’s closer.
Closer than he’s been in a long time.
Mark leans back slightly, gaze lingering on your window just a second longer than necessary.
“…Getting there,” he murmurs softly.
Not just you.
Him too.
For the first time since he lost everything...
He doesn’t feel like he’s standing outside his own life anymore.
He feels like he’s finding his way back.
The invitation catches Mark off guard.
They’re closing up for the day, chairs half-stacked, the smell of coffee still clinging to the air. He’s standing near the counter, lingering like he usually does, when Donghyuck leans over it and says, “Hey, we’re going to the park after this. You should come.”
Just like that. No build-up. No hesitation.
Mark blinks at him, then glances at you.
You’re wiping down the machine, but you look up at the same time, meeting his eyes with a small, easy smile. “Yeah, if you’re free.”
Free.
He almost laughs at that. His life is anything but free. Patrols, responsibility, the constant weight of something happening somewhere at any moment.
But this… this feels important.
He hesitates for half a second too long, then nods. “Yeah. Sure.”
Donghyuck grins like he knew the answer already.
The park is warm with early spring. The kind of day where the sun isn’t too strong, but it lingers on your skin just enough to make everything feel softer. There are people scattered around, dogs running loose, someone playing music faintly in the distance.
You sit on the grass together, coffees in hand, shoes slightly sinking into the ground. Donghyuck stretches out immediately like he owns the place, while you sit cross-legged, absentmindedly pulling at blades of grass between your fingers.
Mark sits a little more carefully, like he’s still figuring out where he fits.
But he’s here.
That’s what matters.
Conversation comes easier than he expected. Or maybe it’s just familiar in a way that makes it feel easy.
Donghyuck is talking about some game he’s been obsessed with, going on about levels and rankings and strategies like it’s life or death.
“I finally hit top tier,” he says proudly.
Mark huffs a quiet laugh, looking down at his coffee. “You’re still playing that?”
Donghyuck squints at him. “Still? What do you mean still?”
Mark shrugs, trying not to smile too much. “Nothing.”
“I’ve upgraded,” Donghyuck shoots back. “It’s called commitment.”
Mark rolls his eyes slightly, but there’s no real bite to it. If anything, there’s something fond underneath. He remembers this. The endless obsession, the way Donghyuck throws himself fully into whatever he likes.
Some things don’t change.
“You’ve been busy though,” you say, turning to Mark. “What do you usually do?”
The question is simple. Dangerous in a way only he understands.
He shrugs lightly. “Just… stuff. Work. Keeping busy.”
You nod like that’s enough, not pushing, and he feels something loosen in his chest because of it.
“What about you?” he asks, shifting the focus. “You mentioned baking before.”
Your face lights up slightly. “Yeah. I started recently. Just to, I don’t know, do something with my hands.”
“She’s been stress baking,” Donghyuck cuts in.
You glare at him. “I am not stress baking.”
“You made three different cakes in one week.”
“Because I was trying recipes!”
Mark smiles quietly, watching you. “Who do you bake for?”
“My parents mostly,” you say, softer now. “I bring home coffee after shifts and make something sweet. It just… helps, I guess.”
He nods, something warm settling in his chest.
He remembers your parents. The way they’d welcome him in without question, how your mom would insist he eat more, how your dad would ask him about school like it mattered. He never really had that growing up, not in the same way. But with them, it always felt… easy.
Like he belonged.
“They’re good people,” he says before he can stop himself.
You blink at him, a little surprised. “You don’t even know them.”
Mark pauses, then recovers with a small shrug. “I can tell by the way you talk about them.”
You smile at that. “Yeah. They’re the best.”
There’s a quiet moment, comfortable, filled only with the distant sounds of the park.
Mark’s eyes drift to your necklace again.
It catches the sunlight just slightly, the small pendant resting against your skin. His chest tightens as he looks at it, wondering if you’ve ever turned it over, ever noticed the tiny engraving on the back.
M.L.
He remembers how careful he’d been, how long it took to carve something so small, so precise.
You’d laughed when he gave it to you, then immediately put it on, saying you’d never take it off.
And you haven’t.
Even now.
“Do you know what you want to do?” he asks suddenly, voice quieter.
You glance at him, then look out at the park, thinking.
“Not really,” you admit. “Which is… kind of scary. But my parents don’t pressure me or anything. They just want me to be happy.”
Mark nods slowly, smiling to himself.
That sounds like them.
“That’s good,” he says. “Not everyone gets that.”
You hum in agreement, then tilt your head slightly. “What about you? Where were you before New York?”
The question lands gently, but it still makes his chest tighten.
You’re still smiling, glancing between them, and something about it feels so normal that Mark almost forgets himself for a second.
The sun, the grass, your laughter, Donghyuck’s voice in the background—it all blends together into something warm and familiar.
Something he thought he lost.
He leans back slightly, hands resting in the grass, letting himself just exist in the moment instead of watching it from the outside.
For the first time in a long time, the heaviness in his chest isn’t there. The constant ache, the loneliness, the feeling of being just out of reach of everything that mattered.
It’s quiet.
Replaced with something softer.
Something steady.
This feels like home.
And for once, he isn’t thinking about what he lost.
He’s just… here.
They leave the park slowly, the sun dipping lower, the air cooling just enough to make the walk back feel easy. Donghyuck walks between you both at first, still talking, still full of energy, but as you get closer to your streets he stretches and checks his phone.
“Alright, I’m cutting through here,” he says, pointing down a side road. “I’m not walking all the way around like you two lovebirds.”
“We’re not—” you start, but he’s already grinning.
“Bye, Mark,” he adds, a little too knowingly.
Mark nods, trying not to react. “See you.”
Donghyuck disappears, leaving the two of you alone on the sidewalk.
For a moment, it’s quiet. Not awkward, just… softer. The kind of quiet where every small thing feels a little more noticeable. Your footsteps, the distant traffic, the way your shoulder almost brushes his once before you both subtly adjust.
“I can walk you home,” Mark says after a second, like he doesn’t want to assume.
You glance at him, smiling. “Yeah. Thanks.”
It’s simple, but it makes something in his chest settle.
They walk side by side, a little closer now, conversation coming in small pieces instead of long stretches. You talk about the café, about a customer who tried to order something ridiculous, about how Donghyuck nearly messed up three drinks in a row earlier.
Mark listens more than he talks, but when he does, it’s enough. It always is.
As your building comes into view, you slow slightly, then glance over at him.
“Oh—next week,” you say, like you just remembered. “Me and Donghyuck are throwing a party. You should come.”
Mark looks at you, surprised for a second before it softens into a smile. “Yeah. Sure. I’d like that.”
“Good,” you say, pleased.
You hesitate for half a second, then pull out your phone. “Wait—let me get your number.”
Mark fumbles slightly, pulling his out a second too late, almost dropping it before catching himself. “Right—yeah.”
You both laugh quietly as you exchange numbers, standing just outside your door now.
“Do you have socials?” you ask, already typing. “Like Instagram?”
“Uh—yeah,” he says, nodding. “I do.”
You find it quickly, tapping the follow button without hesitation. “There.”
He glances at the notification, something small and warm settling in his chest again. “Got it.”
There’s a pause.
Not uncomfortable.
Just… full.
“Okay,” you say softly, stepping a little closer. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” he answers, just as quiet. “Tomorrow.”
And then, before either of you overthink it—
You hug him.
It’s quick. Casual. The kind of hug you’d give a friend.
But to Mark—
It’s everything.
He freezes for half a second, like his body has to catch up to what’s happening. Then he lifts one arm, wrapping it around you gently, careful, like you might disappear if he holds too tight.
He breathes in without meaning to.
You smell different.
Not the same shampoo you used to use.
Something softer. Sweeter.
It throws him off for a second, the realization hitting him in a quiet, unexpected way. Time has moved on. Things have changed. Even the smallest details.
But you’re still you.
You pull away, smiling up at him like it was nothing.
“Get home safe,” you say.
He almost laughs.
The irony of it sits right there, obvious and a little absurd, but he just smiles instead.
“Yeah,” he says. “You too.”
You turn, unlocking your door and stepping inside. The light flicks on, warm against the evening dim.
Mark stays there for a second longer than he should, just watching.
Then—
It hits.
Sharp. Immediate.
His senses flare, the world snapping into focus in a way it only does when something’s wrong.
He doesn’t hesitate.
Before the thought even fully forms, he steps back, shooting a web and pulling himself upward, disappearing into the skyline in one smooth motion.
You turn back just before the door closes.
“Bye—” you start, stepping back toward the door, pulling it open slightly.
But he’s gone.
You frown faintly, looking out at the empty street.
“That was fast,” you murmur.
You step inside again, closing the door slowly.
And then you notice it.
That feeling.
The one you’ve had for weeks now.
Like someone’s watching you.
It was there the whole walk home. Quiet, lingering, just at the edge of your awareness.
But now—
It’s gone.
Completely.
You pause in the middle of your hallway, brows furrowing slightly.
You glance back at the door one last time.
Then shake your head, brushing it off as you head further inside.
But somewhere, deep down—
Something shifts.
Like a piece of a puzzle just barely moved into place.
Warm weather always brings in more crime.
Mark had forgotten that part.
Winter slows things down, keeps people inside, gives the city a kind of quiet it doesn’t usually have. But spring—spring cracks everything open again. More people, more movement, more opportunity for things to go wrong.
He’s been busier.
Too busy.
Nights blur together into sirens, rooftops, fists, and the sharp sting of getting hit harder than he expected. Cuts that should scare him but don’t anymore, bruises that bloom and fade before anyone else would even notice.
By the time he makes it back to his apartment most nights, he barely has the energy to sit, let alone think.
Still—
He thinks about you.
About the café.
About the way you smile when he walks in.
He goes less now. Not because he wants to, but because he can’t always make it. And when he does, it’s quick. A rushed hello, a coffee, a promise thrown over his shoulder—
“I’ll be at the party. Even if it’s just for a bit.”
He means it.
Tonight, he barely makes it.
He crawls in through the window, landing harder than usual, breath uneven. His suit is torn again, darker this time where blood has soaked through. He winces, peeling it off carefully, tossing it aside as he drops onto the edge of his bed.
For a few minutes, he just sits there.
Waiting.
Letting his body do what it always does—healing faster than it should, the worst of it fading just enough to function.
It’s not perfect.
It never is.
But it’ll do.
Mark stands, moving quickly now. Shower, clothes, hands running through his hair until it looks somewhat intentional. He pulls on a white shirt, then a denim jacket, matching jeans—something casual, something that doesn’t scream I just got out of a fight.
A little cologne.
Just enough.
He stops in front of the mirror.
For a second, he just… looks.
At himself.
At the version of him standing there trying to piece together something normal out of a life that isn’t.
There’s a strange feeling in his chest.
Like he’s pretending.
Like he’s stepping into a role he used to know by heart but doesn’t quite fit anymore.
His old life isn’t waiting for him.
It’s gone.
This, whatever this is now, is new.
Different.
And whether he likes it or not—
It’s all he has.
Mark exhales slowly, straightening his jacket.
“…Do it right this time,” he murmurs.
Then he leaves.
Donghyuck’s place smells exactly the same.
The second Mark walks in, it hits him—familiar, warm, a mix of something sweet and something faintly burnt like someone forgot about food in the oven at some point.
“Hey!” Donghyuck’s voice cuts through immediately.
Before Mark can even properly step inside, he’s being pulled in, a drink shoved into his hand.
“You made it,” Donghyuck says, like he’s half-surprised.
“Told you I would,” Mark replies, smiling.
“Yeah, yeah. Come on.”
He doesn’t get a chance to look around much before Donghyuck is dragging him toward the TV, already setting up a game.
“You’re playing.”
Mark barely has time to protest.
And he’s terrible.
Actually terrible.
Donghyuck is relentless about it, laughing, trash-talking, fully in his element while Mark fumbles through controls like he’s never held one before.
“At least pretend you’ve played a game in your life,” Donghyuck says.
“I have,” Mark mutters.
“Clearly not well.”
Mark huffs, shaking his head, but there’s something easy about it. Something light.
He glances to the side.
And sees you.
You’re across the room, laughing.
Not just smiling—really laughing, head tilted slightly, eyes bright.
There’s a guy standing close to you. Someone Mark doesn’t recognize.
And he’s leaning in.
Too close.
Saying something that makes you laugh again.
Mark’s grip tightens around the controller.
He tells himself it’s nothing.
Just a conversation. Just a party.
But then the guy reaches out, brushing a piece of hair away from your face.
Something in Mark snaps.
He doesn’t think. Doesn’t pause.
He’s already standing before he realizes it, crossing the room in a few quick steps.
“Hey.”
You turn, startled for a split second before your face lights up.
“Mark—hi.”
You step forward immediately, hugging him without hesitation.
And this time, he doesn’t freeze.
His arms wrap around you instantly, holding you just a little tighter than necessary, his eyes lifting over your shoulder locking onto the guy.
There’s something in his stare. Sharp. Unreadable.
Enough to make the guy shift uncomfortably, then mumble something about getting another drink before walking away.
Mark doesn’t look back at you until he’s gone.
When he does, your expression has changed.
You’re studying him.
“Are you okay?” you ask, brows knitting together slightly. “There’s… blood on your eyebrow.”
Mark almost groans.
Of course there is.
“I—yeah, it’s nothing,” he says quickly.
But you’re already reaching for his hand.
“Come on.”
You don’t give him time to argue, pulling him down the hallway, into Donghyuck’s room. It’s quieter there, the noise of the party muffled behind the door.
You sit him down on the bed.
Mark’s pulse spikes.
This is—
Too close.
Too familiar.
His hands rest awkwardly on his knees, trying not to think about how you’re standing between them, how close you are, how easy it would be to just—
No.
You disappear for a second, then come back with a damp tissue.
“Hold still,” you say softly.
You step closer.
Closer than before.
Your hand comes up, cupping his face gently as you tilt his head slightly toward the light.
Mark’s breath catches.
This is wrong.
Not wrong in a bad way.
Wrong because it feels too right.
Because his body remembers this even if you don’t.
The way you touch him like it’s natural.
The way you focus on him like nothing else matters.
His chest tightens.
He jerks back suddenly, pulling away.
“I can—finish it,” he says quickly, voice a little strained.
You pause, then nod, handing him the tissue. “Okay.”
There’s a small shift in the air.
Not uncomfortable.
Just… aware.
You clear your throat, stepping back slightly.
“This might be a weird question,” you say, glancing at him. “But do you have a girlfriend?”
Mark blinks.
“No.”
“Have you dated recently?”
He hesitates, then nods. “Yeah.”
You hum softly, watching him.
“Oh.”
“What?” he asks, a little defensive without meaning to.
You shrug, but there’s something thoughtful in your expression. “I don’t know. You just… seem kind of heartbroken.”
Mark lets out a small, surprised laugh. “What?”
“I mean it in a nice way,” you add quickly. “Like—you’re trying to move on. Which is good. But it feels like something’s still… holding you back.”
He doesn’t respond.
Can’t.
Because you’re right.
“Whoever she was,” you continue, softer now, “she must’ve been really special.”
Mark looks down at the tissue in his hand, the faint smear of red against white.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “She was.”
There’s a beat.
Then he exhales, forcing a small smile like it’s easier this way.
“But it’s in the past.”
You nod slowly, like you understand, even if you don’t fully know what you’re understanding. The moment lingers for a second longer than it should, then you shift your weight and turn toward the door.
“Okay, well—”
Your foot catches on nothing.
Or maybe the edge of the rug.
You don’t even register it properly before your balance goes, a small gasp leaving you as you pitch forward—
And Mark is already there.
He stands up at the same time, one arm coming out instinctively, catching you around the waist with a steadiness that feels almost too easy. Like he’s done it a hundred times before. Like your weight doesn’t even faze him.
Your hands fly up, grabbing onto his arms to steady yourself.
And for a second—
You freeze.
Because—
He’s strong.
Not just in a vague way. Not just “he works out sometimes” strong. His arm under your hand is firm, solid, like muscle layered over muscle, like he’s built for something more than just sitting in cafés and writing in notebooks.
Your breath catches slightly.
“Thanks,” you say after a second, a little quieter than before.
------------------
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genre/tags 𝟅𝟈 mark lee x fem!reader, spidermark, friends to lovers, high school au, spiderman!mark
word count 𝟅𝟈 11.2k
NOT PROOFREAD
🕸️🕷✮⋆˙
High school wasn’t glamorous. It was 6:00 a.m. alarms, piles of homework, and gym class—a.k.a. your least favorite subject. So, when Coach called for volleyball that day, you sighed and shuffled towards the court like a prisoner headed for trial.
The gym smelled faintly of sweat and old rubber soles, the harsh lights making it hard to focus. You stood by the bleachers, tying your sneakers when Mark stumbled in, late as usual. His hair stuck up in odd places like he’d rolled out of bed and made a mad dash here. Classic.
“Lee!” Coach barked, tossing him a red jersey. “You’re on Team B. Let’s go!”
Mark jogged over, muttering apologies as he passed you. “Hey,” he said with a sheepish grin, his voice slightly breathless.
“Hey,” you replied, amused. “Rough morning?”
“You have no idea,” he mumbled, pulling the jersey over his head.
Mark was… Mark. Sweet, funny, always a little awkward. You’d known him since middle school, and while he wasn’t exactly the athletic type, you’d never really cared. You’d bonded over you bonded over your mutual interests, anyways, and volleyball was not on the list.
The game started, and you hung back like always, hoping to avoid the ball as much as possible. Mark, however, was front and center.
When the ball came his way, you winced, expecting it to bounce off his face or fly past him entirely. But instead, Mark jumped—higher than seemed possible—and spiked the ball with enough force to make it slam into the court.
Your jaw dropped.
“Whoa!” someone yelled.
Even Coach looked impressed. “Nice hit, Lee! Where’d you learn that?”
Mark shrugged, his face slightly flushed. “Lucky shot.”
As the game went on, Mark’s “luck” didn’t run out. He dove to the floor to save a ball, slid across the court with the grace of a pro, and even managed to block a spike that seemed way out of reach.
By the time the game ended, the entire class was buzzing.
“Did Mark join a secret volleyball league or something?”
You couldn’t help but grin, though your curiosity was starting to bubble over. Since when could he do any of this?
During a break, you found him leaning against the wall, gulping down water like he’d just run a marathon.
“Since when did you play volleyball like that?” you asked, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow.
He nearly choked, coughing and spluttering as his face turned red. “I—uh, I’ve been practicing?”
“Practicing?” you echoed, unimpressed. “Mark, the last time we played volleyball, you tripped over the net and nearly took me down with you.”
He let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… things change?”
You squinted at him, unconvinced. There was something different about him lately—something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.
Before you could press him further, Coach’s whistle blew, calling everyone back to the court. Mark shot you a quick smile before jogging off, leaving you standing there, your curiosity growing by the second.
🕸️🕷✮⋆˙
As the day went on, you started noticing more little things about him. In English class, he caught a pen mid-air without even looking, like he had eyes in the back of his head.
“Nice reflexes, Spidey,” you joked, nudging him.
Mark laughed nervously, shoving the pen into his bag. “Just got lucky,” he said quickly, avoiding your gaze.
Then, in chemistry, he managed to grab a beaker you almost knocked off the table before it shattered on the floor. His hand shot out so fast you barely saw it.
“Whoa,” you said, staring at him. “How’d you do that?”
Mark shrugged, his cheeks turning red. “I dunno, instincts?”
You narrowed your eyes at him, but before you could say anything, the teacher called for everyone’s attention.
By lunchtime, you were keeping a closer eye on him, trying to figure out what was going on. He seemed more jittery than usual, like he was trying to avoid drawing attention to himself but failing miserably.
When someone dropped their tray in the cafeteria, sending food flying, Mark’s head snapped toward the commotion before anyone else had even noticed. He looked like he was about to jump out of his seat before he caught himself and forced a laugh.
“You good?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah, totally,” he said, shoving a fry into his mouth. “Just… startled, that’s all.”
You didn’t believe him for a second, but you let it slide. For now.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of classes, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different about Mark. He’d clearly changed somehow, but you couldn’t put your finger on what exactly was different.
And as much as you wanted to ignore it, you couldn’t help but wonder: what was he hiding?
🕸️🕷✮⋆˙
Your parents had been asleep for hours by the time Mark came over that night. It was one of those quiet, lazy Friday nights where the two of you didn’t need to talk much. Just snacks, a couple of blankets, and a well-worn stack of DVDs.
You weren’t supposed to have people over this late—especially not boys—but it was Mark. If your parents knew it was him, they’d probably be fine with it. Still, sneaking him in through your fire escape gave the night a little thrill.
The two of you were huddled on your bed, knees bumping each other as the movie played on the TV. It was some action flick Mark had picked out, but your attention was divided between the screen and him. He looked more relaxed now than he had at school, though every now and then, you caught him glancing toward the door, like he was expecting someone to barge in.
“You good?” you asked softly, nudging him with your elbow.
“Huh? Yeah, totally,” he said, flashing you a sheepish grin. “Just… didn’t expect him to survive that fall.”
You laughed quietly, shaking your head. “It’s a superhero movie, Mark. No one ever dies unless it’s to make the hero angsty.”
He chuckled at that, leaning back into the couch. “Fair point.”
As the movie went on, the two of you started whispering back and forth, your voices barely louder than the hum of the TV.
“Okay, that was so fake,” you said, gesturing at the screen as the hero miraculously dodged a bullet.
Mark smirked. “You’re telling me this is where you draw the line?”
“I have standards!”
He shook his head, stifling a laugh, when suddenly his posture stiffened. His head tilted slightly, and his hand reached out, brushing your arm.
“Hey,” he whispered, his tone urgent. “Be quiet for a second.”
You blinked at him, confused. “What?”
“Shh,” he insisted, sitting up straighter. His eyes darted toward the hallway, and he moved to hide on the ground next to the bed, out of view of your doorway.
“What’s your problem?” you asked, a little too loudly.
Before he could answer, the door creaked open, and your mom peeked in, her expression equal parts annoyed and groggy.
“Y/N,” she said, crossing her arms. “It’s almost midnight. Keep it down, okay?”
Your eyes went wide. “Oh! Sorry, Mom. I’ll quiet down.”
She lingered for a moment, her gaze sweeping the room. You held your breath, praying she wouldn’t notice the second pair of sneakers tucked gently away next to your your bedside table. Thankfully, she just nodded and shuffled back down the hallway.
The second the coast was clear, you turned to Mark, your heart still racing.
“How the hell did you know she was coming?” you hissed, keeping your voice low this time.
Mark scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes. “I, uh… I just… I don’t know, I guess I heard her footsteps?”
“Footsteps?” you repeated, narrowing your eyes at him. “Mark, I didn’t hear anything. How did you hear her through a closed door? And while we were talking, no less?”
He let out a nervous laugh, shrugging a little too casually. “Maybe I’ve just got good ears?”
“Good ears my ass,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “You’ve been weird all day. First in gym, then in class, and now this. What’s going on with you?”
Mark froze for a second, his expression flickering between panic and guilt. “Nothing! I swear, it’s—nothing. You’re imagining things.”
You raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Yeah, okay” you said sarcastically, not realizing how close you were to the truth.
Mark’s laugh came out a little too forced this time. “Anyways, we should probably finish the movie, it’s getting late.”
You didn’t push the issue—for now. But as the movie played on, you couldn’t help but glance at him, your curiosity growing stronger with every passing minute.
🕸️🕷✮⋆˙
After your slightly strange movie night, everything feels... normal. You’re at school with Mark again, cracking jokes about your teachers and helping each other survive the monotony of class.
After school, you walk home together as usual. Mark’s quiet, more so than usual, and you figure he’s just tired. He always seems tired these days.
"Are you okay?" you ask, nudging his arm.
He flinches slightly, then forces a smile. "Yeah, I’m good. Just didn’t sleep well last night."
You nod, though his answer doesn’t quite satisfy you.
Later that evening, you decide to take a quick walk to clear your head. The streets are quiet, the orange glow of the streetlights casting long shadows. You’re only a few blocks from your apartment when you hear shouting—a man yelling for help. Your heart pounds as you turn the corner and see a masked figure—Spider-Man—swinging into action.
It’s like watching a movie come to life. He moves with incredible speed and grace, disarming the attacker in seconds. The victim stumbles to safety, and Spider-Man barely pauses before disappearing into the night.
You stand frozen, your mind racing. Spider-Man isn’t supposed to be real—not in your world, not in your life. And yet, here he is, saving people in your neighborhood.
When you finally make it home, Mark texts you almost immediately:
Hey, you okay?
The timing feels weirdly coincidental.
Yeah... just saw something crazy on my walk. Spider-Man.
There’s a pause before he replies.
Mark: Whoa, no way. He’s around here?
You: Guess so. It was... surreal.
Mark: Sounds scary. You’re sure you’re okay?
Something about the way he asks makes you hesitate. He sounds so concerned, almost like he’s talking to himself.
You: Yeah. Are YOU okay?
Mark: Me? Of course. Just checking on you. I saw your location said you were outside.
You chastise yourself for not remembering he had your location. You’d have probably done the same thing if his location said he was outside in the middle of the night. Though, you’d never had the habit of checking his.
🕸️🕷✮⋆˙
Saturday nights are sacred.
Since middle school, you and Mark have had this unspoken rule: no matter what, Saturday nights are yours. Whether it’s binging your favorite show, building Legos, or debating which movie series is superior, it’s the highlight of your week.
You’ve been looking forward to tonight all day. After tossing a blanket over the couch and setting out snacks—chips for you, candy for him—you settle in, phone in hand, waiting for Mark’s familiar knock.
He’s usually punctual, arriving right when he says he will. But tonight, the minutes stretch into an hour, and he’s still not there.
You glance at your phone. No texts, no missed calls.
You: Where are you? I’m starting to think you forgot about me.
No response.
You frown but try not to overthink it. Maybe he got caught up with something. You wait another fifteen minutes, then send another text.
You: Mark?? You better not be ditching me for one of your dumb guy friends.
Still nothing. Anxiety begins to creep in, though you try to push it aside. He’s probably just running late.
An hour later, you’ve run out of chips and excuses for his absence.
You: I’m officially mad at you.
By the time midnight rolls around, you’ve all but given up. You leave one last text before tossing your phone onto the coffee table.
You: Hope you’re okay. Call me when you see this.
Sleep doesn’t come easily that night. Your mind races with possibilities—some silly, some serious. Is he okay? Did something happen? You brush them off as anxious thoughts running wild and try to fall asleep.
🕸️🕷✮⋆˙
The next morning, your phone buzzes with a message from Mark.
Mark: I’m so sorry, Y/N. I got sick out of nowhere last night. Took some medicine and completely passed out. I didn’t even see your texts until now.
You exhale, relieved but annoyed.
You: SICK? You ditched me because you were sick? I’m so offended.
Mark: I’m sorryyyyy. 😭 I’ll make it up to you, I swear.
You: You better be glad I didn’t watch our show without you.
Mark: You wouldn’t dare.
You: Guess you’ll never know.
His usual playfulness makes you smile, but the knot in your chest hasn’t completely loosened. You know it’s dumb, but a small part of you wonders if there’s more to the story. Mark never misses your hangouts. You’re always the first to know if something’s wrong. And as much as you want to believe his excuse, the insecurity that’s been gnawing at you for years whispers otherwise.
He’s your only real friend, and deep down, you’re terrified of losing him. You’re terrified that one day he’ll outgrow you, that he’ll find someone cooler, funnier, or just... better.
You shake your head, trying to push the thoughts away. Mark said he was sick, and you believe him. There’s no reason to think otherwise. But as you put your phone down and get ready for the day, you can’t help but feel like something isn’t adding up.
You stare at your phone, willing it to buzz with a new message from Mark, but it stays silent. You’ve already texted him a few times this afternoon, and while he usually responds by now, today it’s been almost two hours since your last message. Your thumb hovers over your screen, ready to send something, but you stop yourself. Maybe he’s busy. It’s fine. It’s not like you need him to text you back right away, right?
But you can’t shake the growing discomfort in your chest.
🕸️🕷✮⋆˙
Ever since his message about getting sick a few weeks ago, he’s been a little off. Sure, he’d apologized for missing your hangout, but now, it’s like nothing has changed. During the day, he’s the same—always goofy, friendly, and acting normal when you see him at school. But by the time night falls, he’s almost always gone—his responses slow, often one-word answers, and sometimes, he doesn’t respond at all. And this has gone on for almost a month now.
The more time passes, the more you can’t help but feel like he’s distancing himself from you, like you’ve somehow become a burden on him. You try to tell yourself you’re overthinking it. He’s probably just busy, right? But deep down, there’s a voice whispering that maybe he’s just getting tired of you. You wish you could ignore it, but the insecurity festers, eating away at your confidence with every minute he doesn’t reply.
By the time midnight rolls around, you’ve already sent him two more texts, no response. You try to sleep, but your mind is spinning. Is he with someone else? You hate that thought, but it keeps creeping in. Maybe he’s found new people to hang out with. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to you anymore.
You throw your phone aside, frustrated with yourself, with him, and with the situation. Why do I care so much? You’ve never been the type to need constant validation from someone else, but with Mark? It’s different. You’ve always been there for each other, always shared your time. You didn’t need anything more from him, but now… it feels like you’re losing him.
Then, you get a message.
It's from Mark. Your heart jumps into your throat as you open it. “Hey, sorry. I got totally wrapped up in homework, we still on for tomorrow?”
You read it over and over, but something feels off. It’s a good excuse—too good, maybe. You want to believe him, but part of you wonders if he’s just avoiding you now. He was so there for you, always texting and hanging out after school. But now? It feels like he’s just gone, like a ghost. You don’t know what to believe.
“Can’t, sorry. I have plans with Giselle.”
There’s a pause before his reply comes through. You can almost hear the indifference in his words, even though you know you’re probably reading into it too much.
“Ah, alright. Have fun.”
The message feels too short, too casual. You frown at your phone, biting your lip. The nagging feeling in your chest grows stronger. Has he really just become that indifferent?
You text him back quickly, trying to keep things light, trying to ignore the hurt that lingers in your words. “Yeah sorry, we’ll definitely hang out later this week though, haha.”
But even as you send the message, a part of you wonders if this week is going to be just like the last—another week of him acting normal at school, you trying to text him all night, waiting for responses that don’t come, waiting for a friendship that doesn’t feel the same anymore.
You let out a sigh, toss your phone aside, and climb into bed, your angsty playlist drifting through your ears as you struggle to sleep.
🕸️🕷✮⋆˙
The bass from the music thumps through your chest as you step into the crowded living room. The lights are dim, the room filled with a haze of colored neon and swirling bodies moving to the rhythm. It’s your first real party in a long time, and the unfamiliar atmosphere is slightly overwhelming. You spot Giselle across the room, her blonde hair shining under the strobe lights as she waves you over.
You smile, grateful for her invitation. The group of people she’s hanging with seems friendly enough, laughing and chatting as they pass drinks around. Giselle introduces you to a few of her friends, and you slip into the crowd easily enough, trying to shake off the tension that’s been building in you ever since Mark stopped replying to your texts.
You’ve been pushing it down all night, focusing on the fun of the party, but it’s hard to ignore the nagging feeling in the back of your mind. Is he really busy with homework? Or is he avoiding me? You try not to dwell on it. After all, he’s always been a little unpredictable—he’s probably just caught up with his own stuff.
As the night wears on, you find yourself getting along with Giselle’s friends. You chat with a girl named Ningning who shares a class with you, and you laugh at her sarcastic humor. It’s nice. It feels good to be out and talking with people who aren’t just classmates or distant acquaintances. But still, in the back of your mind, you’re aware of the emptiness Mark’s absence has left. Every few minutes, you glance at your phone, hoping to see a message from him, but there’s nothing.
You tell yourself it’s fine—he’s just busy. But every time you check, you feel a little more disappointed.
The music pulses louder, and you take a deep breath, shaking off the thoughts of your best friend. Giselle is pulling you toward the makeshift dance floor, laughing as she drags you into the crowd. You let yourself get swept up in the fun for a while, your body moving to the beat, the drinks in your system giving you a comfortable, carefree buzz.
You laugh, enjoy yourself, and even manage to pull out a few impressive dance moves—at least according to Giselle, who’s cheering you on. The night seems to go by in a blur of music and people, the few drinks you’d had adding to the fuzziness of the night’s events.
But as the night winds down, you find yourself standing near the door, chatting with Ningning again. You glance down at your phone for what feels like the hundredth time, a little embarrassed that you’re still hoping for a text from him.
You frown when you see the time: it’s late, and you still haven’t heard from him. You were starting to wonder if you should text him, maybe check in, when Giselle appears beside you. “Hey, you okay?” she asks, her eyes narrowing with a knowing look. You smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just... thinking about stuff,” you say vaguely, slipping your phone back into your pocket.
She nods. “You know, it’s okay to have fun without him. Sometimes you gotta do your own thing, right?”
You nod along, but her words hit deeper than she probably intended. Why does it feel like I can’t? you think, but you don’t say it out loud. Instead, you force another smile. “Yeah, you’re right.”
Giselle offers to drive you home, but you shake your head. “I think I’ll walk. Get some fresh air. Plus, I’ve got pepper spray, just in case,” you joke, trying to ease the mood.
She laughs, but her eyes linger on you for a moment. “Alright, take care of yourself, okay?”
You wave her off as she heads toward the car with her friends. You linger by the door for a moment, a small hesitation gnawing at you, but then you push it aside. Walking will help clear your head.
As you step out into the cool night air, the city streets are alive with the usual hum of late-night activity. There’s a slight chill to the breeze, but you don’t mind it. You wrap your jacket tighter around your shoulders, feeling the effects of the alcohol beginning to wear off as the cold air helps sober you up. The walk is quiet, and for the first time tonight, you feel like you can breathe a little easier.
But even though the night is peaceful, your mind still drifts back to Mark. His silence feels like an anchor in your chest, something heavy and uncertain, and as you walk, you can’t stop wondering what’s going on. You’ve spent every Saturday night together for as long as you can remember. And now... now he’s just disappearing.
You try to shake off the feeling, telling yourself it's nothing. Maybe you’re just overthinking. Again. But the more you walk, the more your thoughts spiral, until you hear the footsteps behind you.
Before you can even react, a hand grabs your wrist, spinning you around so quickly that your heart jumps into your throat. Your breath catches in your chest, and for a split second, you can’t even process what’s happening. The streetlights cast long shadows on the sidewalk, and for a brief, terrifying moment, you can’t make out the guy’s face. All you feel is the cold, tight grip on your wrist.
Your heart starts pounding in your chest, panic surging through you. You try to pull away, but his hand tightens, and a sickening, familiar feeling spreads through you.
"Hey! Let go of me!" you shout, your voice shaking.
“Quiet, bitch,” the man growls, his breath hot against your neck. You struggle, but his grip tightens, and your pulse quickens.
Just as the fear begins to settle over you, you hear a soft whoosh, followed by a thud that’s too heavy to be anything but a person.
Without warning, the man’s grip on you loosens, and before you can even react, you're yanked off the ground and pulled up a nearby fire escape ladder, higher and higher until you’re standing on a rooftop. Your heart pounds in your chest as you try to steady your breath. You glance around, completely disoriented, when the voice of the masker figure breaks the silence.
You let out a breath, in awe of the Spiderman being right in front of you.
But before you can say anything, he speaks.
“Stay here,” he orders, his tone sharp as he drops you onto a crate by the edge of the roof. “I’ll handle it. Don’t move.”
You don’t even have time to ask him what’s going on before he’s gone, leaving you sitting there alone in the dark, your mind spinning. What the hell just happened? Is this... real? You glance around, still trying to process the fact that Spiderman—the very same guy you’d heard about in the news, the one everyone in the city seems to talk about—just saved you from some creep.
Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear the sound of struggle below, muffled voices, and a distant thud as Spiderman confronts the man you were just seconds away from being attacked by. It’s all over within moments, and before you can fully grasp the situation, Spiderman returns, landing effortlessly on the roof beside you.
He glances at you, his mask giving nothing away, but you notice the way his chest rises and falls a little too fast for someone who should be used to fighting.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice softer now. You nod quickly, trying to push the terror away.
“Yeah,” you reply, swallowing hard. “Thanks for saving me.”
A long silence stretches between you before you, almost hesitantly, ask, “Did... did you... kill him?”
The question comes out before you can think better of it, but the moment you say it, his head whips toward you in complete shock.
“What?!” he exclaims, his voice full of disbelief. “No! I—no, I didn’t kill him! I just... I knocked him out. I’m not... I don’t... that’s not what I do.”
You blink, surprised at how horrified he sounds. Maybe you’ve underestimated him.
“Oh,” you murmur, feeling sheepish. “Sorry, I... I don’t know how these things work.”
Spiderman’s shoulders visibly relax, and he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s fine. Just... just stay safe, okay? I’ll get you home.”
You nod, your heart still beating erratically in your chest. Part of you is still processing everything, but another part of you is grateful. Grateful for Spiderman being here tonight, for protecting you when no one else would have been able to.
“Um, thank you again,” you say, your voice softer this time.
His eyes behind the mask seem to soften, but you’re not sure. “I can take you home,” he offers, voice low, almost too gentle, slightly familiar but you’re unable to place exactly where you’d heard it before.
You blink up at him, still in shock, and then remember where you are. “I’m almost home… I can walk the rest of the way.”
But the more you think about it, the more you realize you really don’t want to walk. Not after what just happened. Plus, his presence feels safe in a way you can’t explain.
Spiderman seems to notice the hesitation in your expression, and before you can change your mind, he’s already swooping down, his webbing attaching to a nearby building. “Hold on tight.”
Your breath catches in your throat as you barely process his words. Before you can question how he knows where you live, he shoots another web, pulling you along with him. Your feet leave the ground, and you’re soaring through the city. The wind rushes against your face, and everything is a blur of lights and rooftops.
The whole trip is a disorienting whirl, but it’s somehow comforting in its chaos. Spiderman moves like he’s done this a thousand times, his grip tight around your waist as he swings from one building to the next. The world below you is a distant hum, but your thoughts are still clouded with questions.
And then, as quickly as it began, you find yourself standing on the fire escape of your apartment building. Your legs are a little shaky, but it doesn’t matter. You’re safe.
“Here we are,” he says, glancing up at your window.
You stare at him, still slightly tipsy from the night’s events, but not questioning how he knows where you live. After all, it’s just one of those things that doesn’t make sense, and you don’t really care. All that matters is that you’re safe now.
“Thanks,” you say quietly, feeling oddly vulnerable under his watchful gaze.
He nods again, his hand slipping back to his side as he stands a little straighter. “Take care of yourself, okay? Don’t walk alone at night again. It’s... not safe. Especially for pretty girls like you.”
You nod, still too stunned to respond properly. You watch as he shoots a web up to the fire escape and swings back into the darkness. You stand there for a moment, your thoughts racing, wondering if the whole thing really just happened. It’s only when you step inside your apartment and hear the quiet of the night that it hits you. Spiderman just saved me, not only that but he’d called you pretty too.
🕸️🕷✮⋆˙
The next Monday morning at school, everything feels a little surreal. You’re walking through the hallways, mind still reeling from that night’s events. You still haven’t told anyone, and you feel like you’re about to burst. How in the world had Spiderman been so close to you? And you were actually talking to him, like... you know, a real conversation.
As you sit down next to Mark in homeroom, you can’t help but grin. You need to tell someone about the whole thing, and who better than your best friend? You tap his shoulder and lean in close, trying to act casual but failing miserably.
“Oh my God, Mark, you won’t believe what happened last night,” you blurt out, eyes wide with excitement.
He raises an eyebrow, a slight chuckle escaping him as he looks over at you. “What happened? You go to a party or something?”
You shake your head, not able to contain the grin that stretches across your face. “Worse. I got mugged.” You pause for dramatic effect, watching his eyes widen with concern. “But wait—before you freak out, I was saved. By Spiderman.”
Mark freezes for a second, blinking at you in disbelief. “Spiderman? You’re serious? Like, the Spiderman?”
You nod, leaning back in your chair, arms crossed as you recount the entire wild encounter, from the guy grabbing you to being yanked onto the roof and saved by Spiderman. You try to make it sound as casual as possible, but you can’t help but feel the thrill of telling someone about your personal brush with New York’s most famous hero.
“That’s insane,” Mark mutters, clearly processing the details. “Wait, so... what happened next?”
“Well, he saved me,” you say, leaning in like you’re sharing a secret. “But... I’m not gonna lie, Mark, he was lowkey hot.”
Mark splutters, his face twisting with confusion. “What? You don’t even know what he looks like.”
You shrug dramatically, twirling your pen between your fingers. “Doesn’t matter. It’s not about looks. It’s how he was so protective, you know? The way he grabbed me and made sure I was okay... it was hot.”
You watch Mark's face turn a shade of red as his expression shifts from surprise to something else entirely—discomfort, maybe? You can practically see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to hold it together.
“No way. You’re a freak, bro,” Mark says, shaking his head and trying to laugh it off. “Like, seriously? You’re crushing on a guy you don’t even know?”
You roll your eyes, letting out a short laugh. “I don’t judge your crushes, so don’t judge mine. It’s called appreciating someone for more than just their looks.”
Mark scowls, but there’s a nervous twitch in his eyes. “I’m not judging. But... I don’t know, it’s just a little weird. You’ve got a crush on Spiderman?”
You smile, feeling a little awkward. “I guess. He’s mysterious, heroic... and I mean, he was pretty hot for someone wearing a mask.” You nudge him playfully, watching the way he looks more and more flustered.
Mark shrugs, but you can see the slight hesitation in his eyes. “Whatever, man. You’re weird. But... I guess if he saved you... that’s... kinda cool.”
It’s hard to ignore the little spark of something else in his voice, even if he’s trying to mask it with humor. You grin to yourself, filing the moment away. You’re not sure why, but it feels like there’s a shift between you two—something you can’t quite put your finger on.
You press the issue no further, but the day goes on, and you can't stop thinking about Mark’s weird reaction. Sure, he’s your best friend, but the way he acted just now... it made you wonder. Could he possibly feel something more for you?
You find yourself entertaining the idea of Mark having a crush on you, before shaking your head and brushing the thought away. There’s no way Mark liked you, if he did, he would have told you.
🕸️🕷✮⋆˙
As the week drags on, you can't shake the thought of Spiderman. Sure, you were trying to move on, but it’s hard when you keep running into him every time you step out of the apartment at night. You’ll be walking home from the store, or maybe grabbing dinner with Giselle and Ninging, and bam—there he is, swinging between buildings or dropping down from some rooftop. It’s like he’s everywhere.
At first, you try to brush it off, telling yourself it’s just a coincidence. But then, it starts feeling a little too suspicious, almost like he’s... following you? Or looking out for you?
One night, you’re walking back from your favorite coffee shop, the crisp air of early fall making you hug your jacket tighter. You’ve been texting Mark, as usual, but his replies are slow—too slow. You roll your eyes at the screen, sighing. You swear, it’s like he’s avoiding you or something.
As you round the corner toward your apartment building, you feel that familiar shift in the air, that sensation of something just slightly off. You glance up and sure enough, you spot him—Spiderman—perched on a rooftop above you, his figure silhouetted against the dim streetlights.
You pause in your tracks, raising a brow. “Really? Again?”
Spiderman tilts his head, as if amused by your reaction. He crouches down and lands lightly in front of you, his movements fluid and graceful.
“You’re following me, huh?” you tease, crossing your arms over your chest. “I mean, I appreciate the protection and all, but you don’t have to babysit me.”
Spiderman straightens, a soft chuckle escaping from behind the mask. “I’m not babysitting,” he says with a playful edge. “Just making sure you don’t run into any... unsavory people.”
You roll your eyes, but there's a slight smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, well, I’m fine. Been walking these streets for years now.”
There’s a pause, as if he’s considering your words. “I’m still here. Just in case.” His voice is a little warmer than usual, though it’s hard to tell beneath the mask.
You feel a mix of amusement and frustration bubbling up. “You’re a real hero, huh?” you quip. “Just swinging in, saving the day. But honestly? I’m starting to get tired of it. I mean, you’re cute and all, but this whole ‘mysterious stranger’ act? It’s getting old.”
The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, and as soon as they do, you realize—you’ve just said that to Spiderman.
You quickly recover, trying to act casual. “It’s fine, I guess. I’m just getting a little tired of feeling like I’m in some weird superhero movie, you know?”
Spiderman doesn’t say anything at first. Instead, he steps a little closer, his posture still relaxed but with a certain intensity in his eyes—well, you imagine that’s what’s behind the mask.
“Maybe I should back off for a while then,” he says after a beat, his tone more thoughtful. “You’ve got it all under control, right?”
You scoff, crossing your arms in an attempt to cover up how your heart is suddenly beating a little faster. “Yeah, I’ve got it under control, obviously.”
“Really?” Spiderman says, his voice a little too calm for your liking. Before you can even process what’s happening, he webs your phone right out of your hand, and you gasp, stumbling back in surprise as it hovers in midair for a second before landing gently in his palm.
You blink up at him in disbelief, your mouth hanging open. “What the hell? Give that back!”
He shrugs, unfazed. “What if someone mugs you again? No offense, but your reflexes suck.”
Your jaw clenches at the jab, but you can’t help but laugh bitterly. “Thanks, I feel so much safer now. I wasn’t even worried about it.”
You reach for your phone, and he hands it back to you, but there’s a look in his eyes—concern, maybe? Or just frustration. “You might not worry, but I do. You seem like you’ve got your act together, but... I don’t know. Maybe I’m just looking out for you.”
You roll your eyes, but there’s no real heat in the gesture. "Fine," you say, a little too quickly. "I guess I can let you walk with me then. But just so you know, you’re not my personal bodyguard, alright?”
Spiderman grins behind his mask, a little triumphant, but he falls in step behind you. You try to ignore the way his presence feels different—more constant now, like it’s a part of the night itself. You walk for a few minutes, the quiet of the city streets pressing in on you. You try to focus on the rhythmic sound of your footsteps, but the weight of the past few days catches up with you, and you find your shoulders slumping a little more with each step.
Spiderman notices, of course. You can feel his eyes on your back, studying you, but he doesn’t say anything for a while.
Finally, he speaks up, his voice softer than usual. “You wanna talk about it? I mean, you’ve been acting a little... off tonight.”
You look over your shoulder at him, surprised that he even noticed. But you don’t hesitate. Maybe it’s the anonymity of the mask. Maybe it’s the strange comfort of having a stranger to vent to. But suddenly, you just want to unload.
“Yeah,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair, “I mean, I’ve been dealing with some... stuff lately.”
You kick a rock along the sidewalk as you walk, the soft scrape of it filling the silence. “I’ve got this friend, Mark, right? We’ve been close for years—like, best friends. We have this thing where every Saturday, no exceptions, we hang out. Watch movies, talk... whatever. We’re just... us. But lately? He’s been acting weird. Like, really weird.”
Spiderman doesn’t interrupt. He just walks beside you, giving you the space to talk.
“It’s like he’s avoiding me,” you continue, your words gaining momentum. “I get that people get busy, but he’s never like this. He’s slow to reply, sometimes doesn’t even respond at all, and when he does, it’s like he doesn’t care anymore. I don’t even know what happened. It’s just... really frustrating. And I don’t even know if I should ask him about it, because I don’t want to come off as desperate or clingy.”
You kick another rock, your frustration spilling over, and for a second, you feel a little ridiculous. Here you are, talking about Mark to a guy you don’t even know, someone who wears a mask and swings from rooftops. But the words come tumbling out anyway, all of your insecurities and confusion finding a strange kind of release in the cool air of the city.
Spiderman stays quiet for a moment, processing. When he finally speaks, his voice is calm, like he’s trying to make sense of your ramblings. “Sounds like he’s pulling away for some reason,” he says thoughtfully. “But I’m sure there’s a reason. Maybe he’s just going through something, you know?”
You shrug, feeling the weight of the uncertainty settle in your chest. “I don’t know. I just... I want things Spiderman listens quietly, his footsteps matching yours as you walk. You don’t notice the way his posture shifts, or the way his mask seems to obscure any hint of emotion—though somehow, you feel like he’s really paying attention.
After a few beats of silence, he finally speaks again, his voice thoughtful and a little gentler than before. “You know, I think you should just talk to him. Mark, I mean.”
You stop in your tracks, looking over at him in surprise. “What?”
Spiderman shrugs, his tone almost casual, but his words don’t match the nonchalance. “I get it. You’re frustrated, and you don’t want to be the one to chase him down. But sometimes, people just need a nudge. If you really want things to go back to the way they were... maybe you should just be honest with him. Ask him what’s up.”
You frown, crossing your arms tightly over your chest, suddenly feeling a little vulnerable. “But what if I look desperate? Or, I don’t know... what if he doesn’t care?”
Spiderman stops walking too, his voice quiet but steady when he answers. “He cares. I’m sure of it.”
You raise an eyebrow at him, surprised by how certain he sounds. “How could you possibly know that? You don’t even know him.”
He doesn’t hesitate. “I don’t need to. I can tell from the way you talk about him. The way you light up when you mention him. You’re not the kind of person who just forgets someone you care about. And trust me, it’s obvious he doesn’t want to lose that either. Whatever’s going on, I’m sure it’s nothing personal.”
You let out a long sigh, leaning against the nearest streetlamp. His words stir something inside you—something you’ve been avoiding all week. The idea that Mark really does care makes your heart feel a little lighter, but the fear is still there. “But what if he doesn’t? What if I make things worse by trying to talk to him?”
Spiderman leans against the wall next to you, his posture relaxed. “Look, I’m not saying it’s going to be easy. But you know him. I’m sure you’ve been through rough patches before and you worked through them. You just need to give him the chance to explain himself. I think that’s all he needs—someone to really talk to. And if you don’t do it, you’ll always be wondering what could’ve happened.”
You chew on your lip, his words hanging in the air between you. There’s a weight to them, something that feels... true. Something that makes you want to listen to him, to take his advice. But still, there’s a stubborn part of you that wants to push it all aside. “I just... don’t want to get hurt. Again.”
Spiderman straightens up, his tone surprisingly gentle. “You won’t. Not if you’re honest. Trust me.”
You glance up at him, your gaze softening as you look into the mysterious eyes behind his mask. He sounds so sure of himself.
“Thanks,” you mumble, more to yourself than to him. “I’ll think about it.”
He nods once, giving you an almost encouraging smile beneath the mask. “I know you will.”
You both fall silent as you continue walking, but the weight in your chest doesn’t feel quite as heavy anymore. Maybe, just maybe, Spiderman is right. Maybe you do need to talk to Mark.
Maybe it won’t be as scary as you think.
🕸️🕷✮⋆˙
A few days after your conversation with Spiderman, things between you and Mark seem to settle down a bit. He’s still a little distant at times, but when he’s around, you notice he’s more present, his smiles more genuine, his conversations less distracted. It’s not the same as before—things can’t just magically go back to normal—but there’s something warmer there, something more honest.
One afternoon, as you’re sitting at your favorite spot in the courtyard, you catch him coming toward you, looking a little tired but still smiling like he’s actually glad to see you. You can’t help but feel a pang of relief. It’s been a while since you’ve had one of these simple, casual hangouts, and you’ve missed it more than you care to admit.
He sits beside you, just like old times, and you both start talking like you haven’t missed a beat. But the conversation isn’t just surface-level anymore. He seems more open, more real.
After a while, you can’t hold back anymore. The thought has been gnawing at the back of your mind for days, and it’s finally time to ask.
You clear your throat, trying to sound casual, though your heart is thumping in your chest. "Hey, Mark. Can I ask you something?"
He glances at you, his brow furrowing slightly, but he’s still listening. “Of course. What’s up?”
You take a deep breath, trying not to come off too confrontational. "Why did you ghost me before? I mean, I know you were busy, but... you weren’t even texting me back. I didn’t want to push, but it felt like you were avoiding me."
His expression hardens for just a moment, like he's bracing himself. He looks away for a second, running a hand through his hair. "I was... going through something. Something personal."
You wait, your heart rate picking up. The words hang between you two, waiting for him to elaborate. But he doesn’t.
You want to press him, ask for more details, but you don’t. There’s something about the way he said it—quiet, almost hesitant—that makes you feel like he’s not ready to share. You nod, leaning back against the bench. “Okay... But you know, you can always talk to me, right?”
Mark hesitates, eyes flicking back to you, a mix of gratitude and something else passing through his gaze. "I know," he says, his voice soft but firm. "But right now, I really can’t. I wish I could, but..." He lets out a sigh, his shoulders dropping. "It’s complicated, and I don’t want to drag you into it."
You feel the weight of his words, something about them striking you deeper than you expected. There’s an intensity there, a desperation almost, that you weren’t prepared for. You stare at him for a moment, your gaze softening as you consider his words.
"I trust you, Mark," you say quietly. "And I know you’re not lying to me. So... if you can’t tell me yet, it’s okay. Just know that I’m here, whenever you’re ready."
There’s a long pause as he looks at you, like he’s trying to read the sincerity in your eyes. Finally, he looks away, nodding slowly.
"Thanks. That... means a lot to me." His voice cracks a little, and you can tell how much he appreciates your understanding. "I really am sorry for pulling away, though. I never wanted to hurt you."
You smile softly, feeling the tension between you two finally start to ease. "I know you didn’t. But I’m here, okay? Just like you said—whenever you’re ready, I’m not going anywhere."
He gives a small, grateful smile, his eyes warmer than they’ve been in a while. "Thanks... I really mean it."
From that moment on, things slowly start to return to a sense of normalcy. Mark isn’t completely open with you yet—whatever is going on with him still seems like something he’s not ready to share—but there’s a shift. There’s no more distance. He’s trying, and you’re trying, and that’s enough for now.
And as you walk to class together the next day, you feel a little lighter. Maybe things aren’t perfect, and maybe they never will be, but you’re still here for each other. And somehow, that’s all you need for now.
🕸️🕷✮⋆˙
Things have started to settle into a new rhythm, one that’s almost comfortable. You and Mark are hanging out again, like before, laughing and joking and just enjoying each other’s company. But now, there's something different in the air—something lighter, maybe even flirtatious. It’s subtle, but it’s there. He'll tease you, throw out little compliments that make your heart race, and you’ve noticed the way he looks at you when you’re talking, his eyes softer than usual.
You can’t deny it—you’re starting to feel the spark again, that chemistry you thought you had maybe lost when things got weird. But you're also talking to Spiderman regularly now, and every time you do, you feel like you’re walking this tightrope between two worlds—one where everything feels so right with Mark, and one where he is a complete mystery. You don’t even realize it yet, but you're starting to fall for both of them in very different ways.
You hadn’t expected to run into him tonight, but here he is, perched on the fire escape across the street, casually leaning against the rail. It’s become a weird sort of routine lately—your nightly walks where you’d end up talking to Spiderman. It’s comforting in its own way, even if you still don’t know who’s behind the mask.
You slow your pace and look up at him, raising an eyebrow. “You’re stalking me now?”
Spiderman chuckles, the sound muffled by the mask but still warm enough to make your chest flutter. “If I’m stalking you, then you’re stalking me, too,” he teases, swinging down lightly to land in front of you. “What’s up tonight?”
You shrug, adjusting the straps of your bag over your shoulder. “Not much. Just out to clear my head.”
The city feels quieter at night. The hum of the busy streets seems far away, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you standing there in the stillness. You’ve gotten used to his company in the past couple of weeks, and there’s a sense of comfort in the anonymity between you. A part of you almost wishes you could talk to him more. After everything with Mark, it’s nice to have someone to listen, someone who isn’t involved in the mess.
He notices the shift in your demeanor, and you can tell by the tilt of his head that he’s waiting for you to speak.
You let out a deep breath, gathering your courage. You hadn’t planned on telling him this, but somehow it just comes out. “I think I’m in love with Mark,” you say, voice quieter than usual, almost scared to even say it out loud.
His posture stiffens for a second, though you can’t see his expression under the mask. “Mark?” he repeats, sounding genuinely surprised. “Like, your best friend Mark?”
You nod, biting your lip. “Yeah. I mean... I don’t know. It’s confusing. We’ve been friends forever, and now it’s like I can’t get him out of my head. Lately, he’s been like flirting, I think?”
“Flirting?” he asks, his tone curious, almost teasing. “What do you mean?”
“Yeah,” you say, laughing nervously. “I don’t know, he’s just been way nicer lately? Texting me more, teasing me... It’s like he’s trying to get closer to me or something.”
You glance around, unsure of how to continue, suddenly feeling a little silly talking about your boy problems to Spiderman. You rub the back of your neck and look away, trying to gather your thoughts. “But I don’t know if I’m imagining it. Maybe I’m just reading into things. I mean, we’ve been friends for so long. He’s always been nice to me, but now it’s... different. It’s making me crazy. I don’t know what to think.”
Spiderman watches you quietly, his posture still, though there’s something in the way he holds himself that makes you feel like he’s really paying attention. “You deserve an answer,” he says after a pause, his voice low but certain. “You deserve to know how he feels, one way or the other.”
You look up at him, surprised by his words. “You think so?”
He gives a slight nod. “Yeah. You can’t keep guessing forever. I mean, I’m not saying it’s easy to talk about feelings, but it’s the only way to know for sure.”
You bite your lip, nodding slowly. You want to believe him, you want to believe that talking to Mark is the right thing to do, but the idea of being rejected still stings. “Yeah... I guess you're right. I’ve been avoiding talking to him about it. I’m scared of what might happen if I do.”
Spiderman steps closer, his voice soft and reassuring. “If he’s your friend, he’ll understand. And if he doesn’t... then at least you’ll know where you stand.”
You sigh deeply, feeling the weight of his words. He’s right, of course. You’ve been avoiding the conversation with Mark because you’re afraid of what might happen, but maybe it’s time to face it.
“Thanks,” you say, feeling a little lighter. “I’m not sure I’d have the courage to do it if you hadn’t said something.”
“No problem,” he replies, a teasing note in his voice. “I mean, I’m just a friendly neighborhood Spiderman. Helping people is kind of my thing.”
You laugh a little, but it’s a mix of relief and gratitude. “You’re way too nice to be a superhero.”
He shrugs, though you can’t see it through the mask. “I do what I can. But seriously, take my advice. Talk to him. He’s probably just as confused as you are.”
You smile, feeling a little more confident now. “I will. I promise.”
Spiderman gives you a nod of approval before his posture shifts, signaling that it’s time to go. “Alright. Go get some sleep. You’ve got this.”
You watch as he swings up to the rooftops, disappearing into the night, and for the first time in a while, you feel like maybe—just maybe—you can start figuring things out with Mark.
🕸️🕷✮⋆˙
You don’t even see it coming.
One moment, you’re walking back from the corner store with a bag of snacks, minding your own business. The next, someone grabs you, and your heart leaps into your throat. A rough voice snarls in your ear, “Where’s your friend Spiderman?”
Panic overtakes you, and all you can manage is a confused stammer. You’re shoved into the back of a van, heart racing as you piece together what’s happening. Someone must’ve seen you with him that night, or maybe they’ve been watching for longer than you realized.
Your captors don’t wait long to make their demands clear. “You tell him to show up, or things get messy,” one says, holding up your phone. They want you to call him. The problem is, you have no idea how.
You stutter, trying to explain that you literally don’t have his phone number.
“Don’t play dumb,” the second man snaps, holding up your phone. “We’ve seen him with you. Call him.”
“I can’t—”
Your words are cut off as the van jerks to a halt. The two men exchange alarmed glances, and then you hear it: a thud on the roof.
“What the hell was that?” one mutters, pulling out a weapon.
The next sound is unmistakable—the sharp thwip of a web. The van rocks violently as the door is ripped clean off, light flooding the cramped space.
And there he is.
Spiderman is a blur of red and blue, launching himself into the van with an acrobatic flip. He webs the first man’s weapon before the guy can react, yanking it away and tossing it aside. The second man lunges at him with a crowbar, but Spiderman ducks, the crowbar smashing into the wall behind him with a deafening clang.
“Stay down,” Spiderman warns, his voice firm but calm.
The first guy doesn’t listen. He charges at Spiderman, only to get a web shot to the face. Spiderman kicks him backward, sending him sprawling onto the van’s floor.
“Are you okay?” Spiderman asks, glancing at you briefly.
You nod, too stunned to speak.
The second guy doesn’t go down as easily. He’s bigger, meaner, and surprisingly agile. He swings the crowbar again, catching Spiderman in the side. The sickening sound of metal against his ribs makes your stomach turn.
Spiderman grunts in pain, stumbling but recovering quickly. He blocks the next swing with his forearm, webbing the crowbar and yanking it from the man’s grasp. “You really don’t learn, do you?” he quips, his voice strained.
Before he can finish, the first guy is back on his feet, armed with a knife. He slashes at Spiderman, who dodges narrowly but takes a glancing cut to his arm.
“Two against one,” Spiderman mutters, “that’s not very fair.”
He shoots a web at the knife, disarming the man, then uses a second web to yank him forward. Spiderman spins, using the man’s momentum against him, and sends him crashing into the wall of the van.
The second guy charges, tackling Spiderman to the ground. They grapple, fists flying, and you can see Spiderman slowing down, his movements less precise. Blood stains his suit where the knife grazed him, and he’s holding his side—likely from the earlier hit.
Your breath catches as the second guy pins him, but Spiderman surprises you, using his legs to flip the man over his head. He’s back on his feet in an instant, delivering a punch that knocks the guy out cold.
Spiderman turns to you, his breathing heavy, his posture slouched. “You’re safe now,” he says, but his voice wavers.
“Safe? You’re bleeding!” you exclaim, rushing to his side.
“It’s fine,” he says, trying to wave you off, but his movements are sluggish, and he’s gripping his ribs tightly.
“It’s not fine,” you argue, your voice rising. “You’re hurt. You need help. Come on, let’s go to my place.”
He hesitates, but when he stumbles slightly, he lets you guide him out of the van.
🕸️🕷✮⋆˙
You practically drag Spiderman up the fire escape to your bedroom. He’s limping, trying to downplay the extent of his injuries, but you can see the pain etched into his body language—even through the mask.
“Sit,” you order the moment you’re inside, gesturing to your bed. He hesitates, scanning the windows and doors like he’s expecting someone to burst in.
“Relax,” you add. “Nobody followed us.”
With a reluctant nod, he sinks into the couch, groaning softly. You rush to grab your first-aid kit, returning to find him still gripping his side, his masked head tilted back against the cushions.
“Alright,” you say, kneeling beside him. “I need to check your injuries. You’re gonna have to take off the mask.”
He tenses immediately, shaking his head. “I can’t do that.”
“Spiderman,” you say firmly, “you can’t breathe properly. I need to check if you’re okay. I swear, I won’t tell anyone.”
“No,” he says again, his voice edged with frustration. “I can’t. It’s... complicated.”
You sit back on your heels, crossing your arms. “Complicated? You just saved my life, and now I’m trying to save yours. What’s complicated about that?”
He looks at you for a long moment, the lenses of his mask narrowing slightly. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’ll be fine. I’ve been through worse.”
You huff, annoyed. “Fine. At least let me patch up what I can see.”
He allows you to clean the cut on his arm, wincing slightly as you dab antiseptic on it. You notice how quiet he’s gotten, his usual witty banter replaced by a tense silence.
“You don’t have to do this alone, you know,” you say softly, glancing up at him.
“I do,” he replies immediately, his tone clipped.
The words hit harder than you expect. You lean back, giving him space, and he stands, wobbling slightly.
“Thanks for the help,” he says, moving toward the window.
“Wait—”
“I’ll be fine,” he cuts you off, stepping onto the ledge. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
And then he’s gone, leaving you staring at the empty space where he’d been, your chest tight with frustration and worry.
🕸️🕷✮⋆˙
It’s been days since you last saw Spiderman. Days of walking home late at night and feeling the eerie absence of the one person who always made you feel safe. You tell yourself it’s fine. That he’s busy saving the city or maybe just giving you space. But deep down, you feel the sting of being shut out.
Mark’s been acting strange too. Not like before, when he outright ignored you, but there’s something guarded about him again—like he’s keeping secrets. You don’t know how much more of this you can take.
One evening, as you’re walking home, the silence feels unbearable. The air feels colder, heavier, without the usual sense of someone watching your back. By the time you reach your apartment, your chest feels tight with frustration. You pull out your phone, scrolling through your recent conversations.
Nothing from Spiderman.
Mark’s last text was a brief, “Can’t hang tonight, sorry.”
You shove your phone in your pocket and head straight to Mark’s apartment
When Mark opens the door, he looks surprised—and maybe a little nervous—to see you.
“Hey, what’s up?” he asks, trying for casual, but there’s a stiffness in his tone.
“Are you avoiding me again?” you blurt out, crossing your arms.
He blinks, clearly caught off guard. “What? No. Why would I—”
“Don’t lie to me, Mark,” you cut him off. “You’ve been weird. You’re barely texting back, and when you do, it’s like you’re walking on eggshells. What’s going on with you?”
He runs a hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze. “I’m just... dealing with stuff, okay? It’s nothing to do with you.”
You step closer, lowering your voice. “You told me to trust you. To believe that you care about me. And I do, Mark. But it feels like you’re shutting me out again, and I can’t take that.”
He lets out a long sigh, leaning against the doorframe. “It’s not that simple.”
“Then make it simple!” you exclaim. “You’re my best friend, Mark. You don’t have to do everything alone.”
For a moment, he looks like he’s about to say something—something big. But then he stops himself, his jaw tightening.
“I can’t,” he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper.
You stare at him, heart sinking. “Why not?”
“Because if you knew...” He pauses, swallowing hard. “It would change everything. And I can’t risk that.”
Your mind races, frustration boiling over. “Do you even realize how hard it is for me to feel like I can’t talk to anyone? To feel like I’m losing you and—” You stop yourself, clenching your fists. “You know what? Forget it. I’ll stop asking.”
“Y/N...”
“No,” you say firmly, stepping back. “When you’re ready to actually be honest with me, let me know.”
Before he can respond, you turn and walk away, leaving him standing in the doorway, his expression conflicted.
🕸️🕷✮⋆˙
Mark can’t stop replaying the look on your face as you walked away. The hurt in your voice, the weight of your words—it gnaws at him. For the first time in his life, he’s truly afraid he might lose you.
He paces his room, running a hand through his hair. Every excuse he’s made to keep his identity a secret feels hollow now. You deserve the truth. And if it costs him everything? At least you’ll know how much you mean to him.
Grabbing a small bouquet of flowers—ones he spotted on the way home earlier—he suits up and swings toward your apartment. The city rushes by beneath him, but for once, he doesn’t revel in the thrill of it. His heart pounds in his chest as he lands on your fire escape, crouching just outside your bedroom window.
With a deep breath, he knocks.
You look up, confused at first, but then your heart skips a beat when you see the familiar figure crouched on the fire escape. Spiderman.
You hesitate for a moment, unsure if you should even let him in after how things ended the last time. But then you sigh, walking over and unlocking the window.
“What are you doing here?” you ask flatly, crossing your arms as he steps inside.
He straightens, holding out the small bouquet of slightly squished flowers. “I, uh... I messed up,” he says, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. “And I needed to make it right.”
You glance at the flowers, then back at him, skeptical. “You think flowers are gonna fix everything?”
“No,” he admits quickly, shaking his head. “Not at all. But I’m here because... I need to tell you the truth. The whole truth.”
You raise an eyebrow, not entirely convinced. “You’re finally ready to take off the mask?”
“Yes,” he says firmly, stepping closer. “But only if you promise not to freak out.”
“Why would I freak out?” you mutter, but your curiosity is piqued.
“Just—close your eyes,” he says, a nervous edge to his voice.
You hesitate for a second but do as he asks. You hear the faint rustle of fabric, the sound of him taking off his mask. Then, gently, he takes your hands in his and places them on his face. His skin is warm under your fingertips, and you can feel the slight tremor of his nerves.
“Okay,” he says softly. “Open your eyes.”
You do—and your breath catches in your throat.
“Mark?”
He winces, giving you a sheepish smile. “Surprise?”
Your hands fall from his face as you take a step back, staring at him in utter disbelief. “What the actual hell?! Mark, you’re Spiderman?!”
“Yeah...” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wanted to tell you, I really did. But I couldn’t. Not until now.”
You blink at him, processing. Suddenly, all the weird behavior, the ditching, the injuries—it all makes sense. “You’ve been lying to me this whole time,” you say, your voice shaking slightly.
“I wasn’t lying,” he says quickly. “I was just... protecting you. I didn’t want you to get hurt because of me.”
You open your mouth to argue, but then you stop, taking a deep breath. “Why now, then? Why tell me now?”
“Because I couldn’t lose you,” he says, his voice raw with sincerity. “I know I’ve messed up a lot, and I’ve hurt you, and I hate myself for that. But you’re the most important person in my life, and if being honest is the only way to fix this, then... here I am. No more secrets.”
Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his words. You take a step closer, searching his face. “You’re an idiot,” you say quietly.
He nods, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his lips. “I know.”
“But I guess... I can forgive you,” you add, your voice softening. “Eventually.”
The tension in his shoulders eases, and he lets out a breath of relief. “Thank you.”
There’s a pause, the air between you heavy with unspoken feelings.
“So...” you say, tilting your head. “What now?”
“Well,” he says, his smile growing, “I was kinda hoping we could start over. But, like, as more than friends this time.”
You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling now too. “I guess saving me from a mugger earns you some points.”
“Good,” he says, stepping closer. “Because I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, Y/N.”
Your heart skips a beat, and you meet his gaze, the truth in his eyes making your knees feel weak.
“Yeah,” you whisper. “I think I’m in love with you too.”
Before either of you can overthink it, you close the distance between you, pulling him into a kiss that feels like it’s been years in the making. His arms wrap around you, holding you close, and for once, everything feels right.
Maybe for once Spiderman can have a happy ending.
🕸️🕷✮⋆˙
author's note 𝟅𝟈 this was a bitch to finish i'm ngl but i think i'm pretty happy with how it turned out so yay! i love spiderman sm so yk i love spidermark too. anyways leave suggestions for fics in the comments or my inbox pls.
a/n; this is low-key inspired by my crush augustinthewinter oops
cw: curse words, kissing, nomin
summary: markie’s acting so strange lately… he keeps flaking out on me
you stared at yourself in the mirror as you got ready to go. yanking a long sleeved t-shirt over your head and being sure to smooth your hair down after. you pushed out a heavy exhale. today was hyuck’s birthday party, that you had organised, and it had to be perfect.
your attention was dragged away from figuring out whether one of your eyes is bigger than the other by the buzz of your phone against the nightstand.
markly is calling
you pressed accept and put it on speaker before making your way to your dressing table. “what is upp?” you dragged out the last letter before, slathering your face in some spf moisturiser.
“hey, y/n. you almost ready to go?”
“yup, i’m coming down soon.”
“bet, i’m outside.”
after quickly doing your lip combo and sliding on your converse, you made your way down to mark’s car. though you liked to consider yourself an overly organised person, there were still a few things that you guys needed to pick up before the party, which was now in 2 hours. basically 5 minutes by party prep logic.
mark was silent pretty much the whole ride. which would’ve been relatively normal if he wasn’t literally mark lee.
you gently poked his thigh over the console. “you good?”
he just nodded, “mhm.” never taking his eyes off the road.
when you pulled into the target parking lot, mark looked around, hesitating to get out of the car, like he was waiting for you to leave first.
“uhh, are we not going in?” your brows furrowed.
mark’s pupils darted around awkwardly, “oh, uh, you go ahead. i kinda wanted to stay and listen to the radio. i'm really into the news lately.. yeah.” he scratched the back of his neck.
you squinted your eyes at him for a second, “yeahh, okay. well, i'm only getting candles so hang in there until then. i won’t be long.” he shot you an awkward smile before you got out of the car, heading towards the store.
mark had been acting super.. odd, lately. he could hardly ever hang out anymore, and when he finally could, he would always make up some dumb excuse for why he had to dip out early. it was starting to become pretty obvious that something was going on.
after your little target run and a 15 second staring contest after mark frantically turned off the radio, he drove you back to his apartment where you found hyuck waiting on the couch.
“haechannie!” you ran to the couch, damn near jumping into his arms and wrapping him in a bear hug, “happy birthday, cutie.”
hyuck let out an excited noise muffled by your arm around him. you pulled away from him, “oh, sorry dude.”
he spat out some of the fluff from your sweater, “it’s cool. it’s my birthday, so! literally nothing could annoy me today.”
you smiled widely at his excitement. seeing him happy brought a great deal of warmth to your heart. you sat down next to him on the couch and the two of you started to talk about the party and how excited you both were while mark busied himself in the kitchen, unpacking your target haul which turned out to be way more than just candles.
you stayed on the couch with hyuck, listening to his joyful musings in regards to the party. “i can't wait for everyone to get here,” he moved his hand to rest on your arm, “especially since jaem texted me that he and jeno are bringing me something ‘special’.”
you raised an eyebrow at him, “hello? special like what?”
“mm, special like expensive..” he flopped back dramatically against the couch cushions, “they both work at that fancy place in manhattan now, so they can afford to spoil me properly.”
“jesus, haechan.” you laughed at him.
you heard the sound of mark dropping something followed by a quiet curse from the kitchen and whipped your head in his direction but hyuck just waved his hand dismissively. “he's fine, he's fine. hey, did you call everyone to remind them about presents? because I swear if johnny shows up empty handed again-“
“uh no, no, not yet.” you scrunched your brows over at the kitchen before turning back to hyuck and lowering your voice slightly. “hey, is it just me or is mark being kind of... weird today? and like, every day this week.”
hyuck peeked over the couch at mark pacing for a moment before he shrugged, “um. no. don’t worry about it, though, party’s in like 40 minutes. get excited again!”
you pushed yourself off the couch, ignoring hyuck's dramatic protests for you to stay as you made your way to the kitchen. mark was hunched over his phone, seemingly studying apple maps with intense focus. you leaned against the counter, watching him for a moment.
“you good? you seem off.”
mark jolted up, “shit— oh, hey,” he straightened his posture, rubbing the back of his head. his eyes looked around the kitchen, not quite meeting yours. “just, uh, making sure everything's organised. you know how hyuck gets about this stuff.”
you squinted at him. that was definitely a lie — hyuck couldn't care less about party organization as long as there’s booze and gifts. before you could call him out on it, mark's phone buzzed. he grabbed it so quickly he almost dropped it, glancing at the screen with an expression you couldn't quite read.
“i gotta- there's something i need to...” he gestured vaguely towards the door, already backing towards it.
“mark!”
“gimme 10 minutes.” he pleaded, and just like that, he was gone, leaving you standing in the kitchen surrounded by half-unpacked target bags. “fuck me, dude.”
you sighed, turning your attention to the scattered grocery bags. whatever was going on with mark had to wait — you had a party to set up. you pulled out the some fairy lights, arranging them strategically around the living room while hyuck provided unhelpful commentary from his spot on the couch.
“a little to the left— no, no, my left— no, wait, the first spot was better...”
“aye, cut it out, haechan. it's your birthday, not your interior design debut,” you teased and he just pouted in response.
as much as you tried to occupy yourself, you couldn't help but be painfully aware of mark's absence. usually he'd be right there with you, probably tangling up the lights or making terrible puns about the party supplies.
“y/nnie, the streamers are crooked!”
“dude.” you turned to face him, you placed a hand on your hip, “since you're such an expert on crooked streamers, why don't you get off your ass and come help me?”
he clutched his pearls, “but i’m the birthday boy.. i'm supposed to be lounging and being waited on.”
“you can lounge at your birthday party.” you grabbed a pack of balloons and tossed them at him. he caught them with a whine but finally got up from the couch.
as you worked together, hyuck's presence made it easier to ignore the nagging worry about mark's disappearance. the two of you fell into an easy rhythm; you hanging decorations while hyuck attempted — and mostly failed — to blow up balloons without getting light-headed.
"haechan, your face is turning the same color as those balloons." you laughed out.
“bro, i swear there’s something wrong with them.” he huffed, out of breath.
“out of breath from blowing balloons is crazy, actually.” you laughed out.
you pulled out your phone while hyuck continued his dramatic balloon-related suffering on the floor. scrolling through your recent calls, you hit renjun's number.
“hello?” renjun's voice crackled through the speaker.
“hii, just checking you guys are almost ready. and uh, bringing presents?” you put the phone on speaker so hyuck could hear.
“yeah, we're getting ready now. jaemin's been wrapping the same gift for like an hour because he keeps messing up the corners.”
“it needs to be perfect!” you heard jaemin yell in the background.
“it's just gonna get ripped open anyway,” jeno's voice chimed in, followed by what sounded like jaemin throwing something at him.
“we're already together, so we can leave pretty soon.” renjun explained. “and jeno and jaemin are acting like an old married couple, as per usual.”
“no, we’re not!” jeno protested.
“sure, man.” renjun chuckled. “anyway, we'll be there in like an hour. just gotta pry these two apart first.”
“kay, bye.” you squeaked, hanging up the phone.
you walked around the apartment, scrutinizing every detail. the fairy lights cast a warm glow across the room, and despite hyuck's earlier complaints, the streamers looked perfectly fine. the snacks were nicely arranged on the coffee table, and you'd managed to create a decent photo backdrop on one wall with some of the balloons.
“wait, everything looks so good…” you whispered, more to yourself than to donghyuck, who was back sprawled across the couch scrolling through his phone. “it’d be nice if mark was actually was here to see it.” you sighed.
“trust, he’ll be back,” hyuck said without looking up, completely unbothered. “he always comes back.”
something about the way he said it made you pause. because what does that even mean… it wasn't just casual reassurance. it sounded like he knew something you didn't.
you decided to freshen up before everyone arrived, heading to your room where you'd laid out your outfit on the bed.
“y/n! jaemin just texted, they're like ten minutes away!” hyuck called through the door. “please tell me you're not going to take forever to get ready!"
“yeah, yeah.” you called back. you changed into your outfit — a cute black top with a matching midi-skirt that made you feel confident.. despite the weird energy of the evening.
you gave yourself one last glance in the mirror before hurrying out to join hyuck. just in time too because as soon as you came out, the doorbell rang and hyuck almost face-planted trying to answer it.
“happy birthday!” three voices chorused as soon as the door swung open. renjun, jeno, and jaemin piled in, arms loaded with presents and various snacks.
“jesus, jaem, is that what took you so long?” you laughed, eyeing jaemin's impossibly pristine gift wrapping.
“listen. i don’t play.” jaemin defended himself.
“no, yeah. ‘course.” you blinked and jeno's face just scrunched up in embarrassment.
renjun piped up, “hey, where's mark? usually he's the one opening the door looking stressed about party logistics.”
you felt your smile falter ever so slightly. “oh, he's just... running an errand. i don’t know.”
“what a host.” he raised an eyebrow and you just sighed.
before you could respond, more guests started arriving, saving you from having to explain mark's mysterious absence.
the party was in full swing now, music vibrating through the apartment as you gathered everyone together near the balloon backdrop you'd set up earlier.
“okay, haechannie, you go in the middle!” you directed, watching as he immediately started posing while everyone shuffled around him. he had definitely rehearsed.
“na jaemin, stop fixing your hair, it looks fine.” jeno tried to push jaemin’s hands away from his bangs.
“that's what you think,” jaemin muttered, but finally dropped his hands.
you set up your phone timer and rushed to join the group, squeezing in between renjun and hyuck. the photos came out cute — everyone laughing and making silly faces and then jeno somehow managing to look like he was on a magazine cover.
but as you flicked through them, each one felt incomplete. it was painfully obvious that mark was missing. you glanced at the time — he'd been gone for over an hour now.
“okay, okay, let's take some silly ones!" hyuck suggested and jeno groaned.
“christ.”
but you were already backing away from the group. “i gotta use the bathroom real quick,” you said, heading down the hallway.
you reached for the bathroom door handle, pushing it open without thinking — only to hear a startled “privacy, pri- i’m in here!”
“shit, sorry.” you caught a glimpse of familiar dark head of hair and what looked like red spandex before you instinctively slammed the door shut.
wait…
you reopened the door just enough to slip inside — and make sure no one sees the butt ass naked mark in the bathroom — closing it quickly behind you.
mark stood there frozen, in only his boxers and a spider-man mask dangling from one hand.
“dude, i can explain-“ he started.
“go ahead.” you cut him off, keeping your voice low despite the music muffling any chance of being overheard.
“because i've been worried sick about you disappearing all evening, and now I find you in here..” you waved your hands in his general direction, “doing whatever you’re doing. wait, what the hell are you doing..?”
mark cringed, hyper-aware of the situation he was in. “you found me!”
“what are you actually doing right now.”
“hide and seek?” he looked like he didn’t even believe the reason he just gave.
“okay, enough of the excuses now. like for real. cause i’ve been really worried about you these past few months because you keep going missing and you just brush it off every time. i know you’ve been lying to me. what is up with that?”
his expression became serious, “y/n, i’ve hated lying to you. every time i had to come up with some shitty excuse, i’ve felt awful.”
“you never had to lie about anything, mark. i’m your best friend, you’re just supposed to tell me.” you frowned at him and he could have sworn he heard his heart shatter.
“it's not- I just- I had to...” he trailed off, running a hand through his disheveled hair and taking a deep breath. “there was this thing downtown, and i mean, i couldn't exactly tell you-“
“tell me what, mark?” you stepped closer, arms crossed. “another shitty excuse? that all your disappearances were because you- you’re-“ you glanced down at mask in his hand before he swiftly threw it across the floor.
you froze, pointing at him, “woah. no. pick that up.”
“y/n. chill on me.”
“mark lee.”
“okay, hear me out,” he pleaded, “remember that ski trip? with hyuck and renjun? when that huge like— snow, monster.. thing attacked us all. but then he showed up?”
you frowned, remembering the terrifying incident. “uh, yeah, it was scary as fuck. but like, what does that have to do with anything?“
“you said you owed him your life,” mark continued softly, “and you screamed in his ear. super fucking loud.” he subconsciously rubbed his own ear.
you looked off to the side and scoffed, “acting like you were there. you literally pussied out as soon as it showed up.”
“trust me i was. i know that after he pulled you out of the way, you immediately started crying. you were wearing that blue ski jacket with the fuzzy hood, and you had snow in your hair, and-“
your eyes slowly widened as you connected the dots in your head. “shut up..” you whispered. “you’re him?”
mark flushed slightly, holding his arms out, “i meannn…”
“mark lee saved my life..?”
“yo, that’s crazy.” he brought his fingers up to his lips as if he was in deep thought, “like when you put it like that, that sounds cra-“
you cut him off by leaning in and softly pressing your lips to his, wrapping your arms around his neck. his hands found home on your lower back as he sighed into the kiss. a noise that brought you back to reality.
you pulled away, “wait, shit! oh my god, i’m sorry. i didn’t even ask-“
“no, it’s okay! i- uhm, i kind of wanted you to do that.. i don’t know.” he looks downwards.
“oh, purr.”
“wait— did you just kiss me ‘cus i’m a superhero? ‘cause that’s literally fine, but like—“
“god, mark, no. i’ve kind of liked you for a while. i guess the fact that you literally helped me escape death really solidified it for me. i don’t know..” you shrugged.
he looked at you with warm expression before realisation hit him and his eyes widened, “yo, i’m literally naked…”
you laugh at him, “oh yeah, i lowkey forgot.” you turn around allowing him to start dressing. “y’know, this actually explains a lot.”
he scoffed, “pfft. what do you mean?”
“your excuses were ass. it was only a matter of time till i found out.”
“what? no.. i was so stealthy.”
you laughed at him, “sure, mark. i—
you were interrupted by loud banging on the door. both you and mark flinched.
“Y/N Y/L/N! I KNOW YOU’RE NOT POOPING AT MY BIRTHDAY PARTY.”
you slowly opened the door, just enough that only your head was visible, “hi, haechannie…”
“ew, no, i can smell it. i can’t believe you’d do this to me—” he frowned and you rolled your eyes.
“no one’s pooping, hyuck. don’t be dramatic.”
“huh. well— oh hello. why are you in the bathroom with mark? and you did it at my birthday dinner…”
“girl stop. mark just got here actually.” you turned to look at him, unsure of how to explain. all he could do is hold up a hand to wave awkwardly, “hey man.”
“mm yeah. nice of you to swing by, mark.” hyuck raised a brow at him. “how’d you sneak past the door? you’re so sneaky, like, uhh… like a bug.” he raised his brow once again. “huh, mark?”
mark just looked from side to side, “what are you saying to me right now?”
“oh, yknow, you’re just kinda creepy.. and crawly… and stuff.”
“she already knows.” mark pulled a shirt over his head.
“oh, she— yeah? yeah, no, okay.”
a/n; takes a long nap…….. this came to me in a hallucination
↳ warnings: profanity, mentions of blood, mentions of stabbing, mentions of injury
↳ wc: 1.7k
↳ music: 200 - minhyung’s version — MARK
DIE 4 YOU — DEAN
HER — CHASE ATLANTIC
.・。.・✭・.・✫・⋆｡✩🕸️🕷️✮⋆˙ .・。.・✭・✫・゜・。.
“fuck,” you mutter harshly under your breath, voice low and ragged as the snap of yet another pencil echoes in your room.
that’s five now.
five broken pencils scattered across your desk like leaves in the peak of autumn.
you slump deeper into your spin-chair, cushions creaking beneath you as you rub a single hand over your face.
in front of you, the half-finished sketch of your little sister stares back—kind, smiling, still on the page. you’d promised her a portrait a week ago, and she’d lit up like a kid on christmas morning. she’d even joked about framing it next to one of her baby photo’s.
you laughed at the time.
now, your throat’s too tight for laughter.
it wasn’t even the drawing itself. your sister’s face, her softness—those, you could draw in your sleep.
the real problem is your hands. they won’t stop trembling. your grip is too tight, your strokes too heavy.
every mark on the page feels forced, disconnected. as though a tether to a being that didn’t want to be found.
you’re not angry at your sister. you’re mad at everything else.
at the way today unfolded like some cruel joke, at the gnawing weight in your chest that you’ve been carrying since the morning. at the way emotions seemed to cling to you like a parasite in its most cherished habitat, daunting and suffocating—creeping into things that should bring you peace.
like this. like this drawing.
you glance back at your sister’s photo propped against your sage lamp for reference. she’s grinning in it, eyes half-lidded from laughter, head tilted slightly to the side like she always does when she’s trying to listen to better.
you exhale slowly. you owe her this portrait.
she’d asked you for it with so much excitement in her voice, and has been nothing but patient with you—but right now, the weight of your own thoughts is louder than pencil against paper.
composedly, you reach for a new one—your sixth pencil—and force your shoulders to relax.
just breathe. start again.
but to no avail.
“y/n!”
then—a beat.
“i know you’re mad at me but i just—“
you hadn’t even realised you’d stood up until the pillow left your hands, hurling across the room with all the force of your frustration.
it hit the glass with a sharp thud, the figure crouched on your windowsill flinched, barely—but enough.
mark.
your boyfriend—maybe.
your situationship—definitely.
he was draped in his signature suit of dark-red and navy that clung to his frame like a second skin.
as the wind tousled freely, his shoulder-length brown hair fell gently into his eyes.
even now, perched outside your bedroom with the city at his back and your fury at his feet, he had the audacity to look calm.
voice soft. eyes searching.
you didn’t care.
“get the fuck off my windowsill,” you scowl, “before i throw something that actually hurts.”
“i know . . . “ mark breathes, his voice hoarse. “i know you’re mad. but i—i just . . .” he trails off, eyes pleading. “i’m not here to fix things. i got hurt and i didn’t know where else to go.”
“if you’re hurt,” you bite, arms folded tight across your chest, “then why the hell would you come here?”
he meets your gaze, and for a second, it’s like something in him splinters. “because you were the first person i thought of.”
you scoff. loud and harsh. that was the last thing you wanted to hear right now.
you’re already turning away, fists clenched at your waist, when you hear him shift—his palm slapping against the glass with a heavy thump.
you freeze.
slowly, your eyes drift back to the window, and your breath catches.
crimson smears stain the glass in the shape of his hands.
and then you see it. just beneath mark’s ribs, flaming scarlet blooming through his suit, thick and spreading.
“mark . . . ” your voice drops. “you’re bleeding.”
he sways a little, gripping the frame on your window tighter. “yeah. uh . . . kinda badly.”
you curse under your breath and unlatch the window, dragging it open in one quick movement. he climbs in slowly, wincing as his boot catches on the ledge. the moment he makes it inside, he stumbles toward your bed.
“don’t—!” you say sharply, putting a hand out. “you are not bleeding all over my sheets.”
he gives a weak laugh but listens, backing away with a grimace.
you turn without another word and head toward the bathroom, not bothering to check if he’s following.
he does, of course. quietly, limping.
once inside, you fling open a drawer and pull out the small first-aid kit you keep under the sink. he hops up onto the bathroom counter with a groan, legs swinging slightly, his suit sticking to the wound like fabric glued to flesh.
“how deep is it?” you ask, already pulling out the gauze and antiseptic.
you move between his knees, unzipping the kit, hands steady even if your thoughts aren’t.
he shrugs, casual—too casual. “uhh… i got stabbed. so… probably pretty deep.”
your head jerks up. “you got stabbed?!”
he doesn’t answer. instead, his expression shifts—his voice softening. “i’m really sorry about this morning. i know you’d never get with xiaojun. i just… the way you were looking at him—”
you don’t let him finish. you press the alcohol-soaked cotton against the wound without warning.
“fuckkk—” he hisses, his entire body jerking.
“y/n . . .” his head falls back against the mirror, jaw tight. “you could’ve warned me next time.”
you don’t even flinch.
“i was going to,” you mutter coldly. “then you started talking.”
“but seriously,” mark says quietly, voice a little steadier this time, “i mean it.”
you don’t respond.
he reaches for your hand—your free one, the one not holding the gauze—and tries to intertwine his fingers with yours.
you pull it away instantly. like muscle memory.
“i’m trying to stop you from bleeding out, mark,” you mutter, not even glancing at him. “if you want me to actually stitch your wound properly, you’re gonna have to take the suit off.”
that earns a smirk.
“oh? you sure you’re not just trying to get me undressed?”
without missing a beat, you lift the alcohol-soaked cotton pad again, eyes still focused on his side.
he sees it coming and jerks backward. “okay—okay! fine! i’ll take it off. no peeking, though.”
“you wish i would,” you deadpan, already turning on your heel.
you leave the bathroom without looking back, the door clicking softly shut behind you.
there’s a beat of silence. then a muffled, “okay… i’m done.”
you re-enter a moment later to find him shirtless, the top half of the spider-man suit peeled down to his waist. his skin is streaked with blood and sweat, the gash along his side raw and angry, but your eyes don’t linger.
you set the kit down on the counter again.
“sit still,” you say, voice neutral.
he does.
but you can feel his eyes on you the entire time.
you work in silence for a while, carefully cleaning around the wound, trying to stay focused—trying being the key word.
you can still feel his eyes on you like a weight, heavy and unrelenting.
finally, you snap. “stop fucking staring.”
mark blinks, maybe once, maybe twice. “what? i can’t even look at you anymore?”
“yes,” you say flatly. “fix your staring problem, or i’m done helping you.”
he grins, shamelessly at that. “i only have a staring problem when it comes to you.”
you roll your eyes and drop whatever tool you were holding onto the counter, you were done.
without another word, you pivot sharply on your heel and start walking toward the door.
“where are you going?” he calls behind you.
“away from you.”
your fingers curl around the doorknob—but before you can turn it, a thwip slices through the air.
a web shoots out, lightning fast, and wraps tightly around your waist, yanking you backwards.
you let out a short gasp as you’re pulled right into his lap and instinctively press a hand to his shoulder to steady yourself.
his arm slips around you like he’s done it a hundred times before. like it’s natural.
you glare at him.
the side of his lip curls into that same smug, little smirk you’ve always hated. and hated that you noticed.
“looks like your plan to leave didn’t work out so well,” he says.
you freeze for a second in his lap, stunned that he actually did it.
his arm is still around your waist, firm but not forceful. you can feel the heat of his skin through the torn fabric of his suit, the curve of his bare chest pressing against your side. it sends a subtle shiver down your spine, one you hope he doesn’t notice.
you try to push up off him, flustered now, your earlier anger dissolving into something quieter, warmer—but his grip tightens, pulling you back into place.
“just… stay for a second,” he says, softer now. “please.”
you glance up at him. his eyes aren’t teasing anymore. they’re honest.
“can you just… hear me out? about this morning?”
you hesitate, but then nod.
“i was an idiot,” he says. “i know you’d never get with xiaojun. i do. but the way you looked at him—gosh, it just got in my head. i got jealous. and instead of talking to you like a normal person, i started a fight.”
you don’t say anything. you’re too busy trying not to notice how close your faces are. how his thumb brushes lightly along your side as he holds you there.
“i’m sorry,” he adds, voice low. “let me make it up to you.”
you raise an eyebrow, still not quite trusting the softness in your chest. “with what?”
“i’ll take you out,” he says immediately. “anywhere you want.”
you blink. “does taking me away from you count?”
he laughs under his breath, head tipping back slightly, and for a second, you feel the sound of it more than you hear it.
it vibrates through you.
“fine,” he says, looking back at you with that half-smile. “as long as you come back after.”
𑣲synopsis – it was relatively normal in queens, until you showed up and now everything is in shambles.
𑣲warnings – angst, swearing, heavy violence, character death, implied sexual content, kissing, strong language.
𑣲word count – 9.3k
𑣲authors note – hii first tumblr story yaay!! this is vv dialogue based and i gen cannot write fight scenes so plz bear with me </3 thank you to @makisdoll for helping me write this and basically being my support system through this journey. feel free to leave feedback and comments. all is appreciated. enjoy!!
—
mark didn't want this, he didn't choose to be this, whatever he was. he didnt choose to stick to walls, didn't choose to shoot webs out of his hands, didnt choose the "spidey senses". he didn't choose it at all.
but someone, up in the sky. thought he should be spider-man. or at least thats what he thought it was. in reality, he just got bitten by a radioactive spider...from a lab. dr connors lab. the green lizard guy? who apparently was also his professor?
its a long story, but lets start from the beginning. mark lee is a normal person. psychology major, a few friends. just your average freshman in college.
until it happens. the biting. he’s in the library, skimming through sections, trying to find 'psychology 101' when a spider crawls onto his hand. he shrieks, smashing it. but damage is already done. he was bitten by a radioactive spider.
nothing happened for a while, until everything happened. things were so loud. he felt like he could hear conversations three blocks away. sunlight hurt his eyes. the constant buzzing. everything was heightened.
then came the sticking. he was walking back to his dorm, when his hand got stuck to the doorknob. "what the fuck.." he muttered, trying to pull back, but unfortunately just ended up breaking the door knob.
the loud sound caused a few faces to look his way, mark smiled sheepishly and quielty entered his dorm. "what is going on?" he asks to more to himself.
he eventually figured out what happened, and...felt confused. mark was always taught things happened for a reason. but this situation? it felt unreasonable. he felt like a freak accident.
he didn't know how to process his...abilities. he had spider-like abilities, some sort of cell mutation, is what he concluded it to. "so, i'm like..a spider? spider..man?" he muttered.
fast forward to present time, he's been doing this for over two years. and thank god no one has figured out its mark lee under the mask. or so he thought.
because you came in. and so did another villain, and lord it shook mark lee's world.
you were a quiet girl, but not invisible, at least to mark. you were likeable, but not popular. but you figured him out immediately. you didn’t know he was spider-man, yet, but you knew there was something he wasn’t telling anyone.
he was very awkward, but thats besides the point. your father, dr conners, whom was his professor, had you join this class.
"and why are you making me do this?" you cross your arms, staring up at your father with an uninterested gaze.
"because mark is spider-man" he says, tearing his glasses off as he looks at new lab reports. "mark?" you scoff. "that nerdy junior psychology major? you think he's spider-man? father, respectfully have you lost your mind?"
"yn just..just hear me out. i found some of his notes, it looked like he was..making some sort of web fluid." you furrow your brows, listening nonetheless.
"and everytime there's an incident or another villain, mark is always gone, and spiderman is always there."
you roll your eyes. "and what does this have to do with me?" "you know the spider that bit you? how you have your powers?" you nod, following along. "well, one of my 'experimental' spiders got out, and it bit him. i saw it happen. in the library."
"right..." you say, not believing him. "and you want me to do...what?" "i want you to kill him."
you blink, taken aback. "kill him? why?" "because he stole my spider!" you shake your head, rubbing your temples. "whatever dad, what specifically do you need me to do?" "i need you to get close to him, lure him into my lab, and let me handle it."
"so basically i'm the bait." you click your tongue, nodding. "i didn't say that, but yeah." your father mutters, dismissing you.
after that talk, you made it your mission to get closer to mark lee, despite your obvious disbelief to him being spider-man.
—
mark bursts through the door, already spewing nonsense into donghyuck's ears. “hyuck i swear! yn, the new girl, she was literally being so weird.” mark slams down his backpack, pacing back and forth in their dorm.
“seriously? out of all people? your ‘mark tingle’ chooses her? come on mark, she probably just wanted to make a friend.” donghyuck rolls his eyes, already fed up with his best friend's nonsense.
“you don't understand.” mark mutters, obviously frustrated. “there was something off about her. she wasn't fake, she was just..i-i don't know how to explain it but you have to trust me!”
donghyuck blankly stares at mark. “i think you're going insane.” he scavenges his bag for his headphones, turning on some music and ignoring mark completely.
mark rolls his eyes, walking into the kitchen. “you always do this–you tell me to trust my gut, but the minute i think something is remotely off you call bullshit.”
he plops down on the couch, opening his bag and looking at his suit. running his fingers over the fabric, he feels a ringing in his ears, his spidey senses.
mark jolts, immediately sitting up. he throws on his suit, pulling the mask over his head. “where are you going?” says donghyuck, looking up at mark.
“just going for a swing, i won't be out too late.” mark replies, opening their window and swinging outside.
“you are so weird.” donghyuck mutters, sliding his headphones back onto his head.
mark swings from building to building, trying to figure out who or what triggered his spidey senses. he lands on top of the empire state building. he sits on the edge, letting his feet dangle over the city.
all of a sudden he whips his head around, immediately coming face to face with yet another…spider-person.
“typical landing spot huh?” mark furrows his brows, his gaze following the silhouette as they sit next to him.
mark leans back onto his hands, looking at the sunset, feigning nonchalance. “i mean, i guess you could say so. sometimes i just come up here when–” “things get too loud. i do the same.”
mark blinks, shocked by how similar they already are. “so… what brings you here?” god, what a loser he was.
“just…came up here to get some air.” they respond, looking down at all of the city life from the high spot they were at.
mark nods, looking down at his lap. “any uh, any name i should address you by?” they think for a second, gently caressing their chin. “ghost spider.” mark nods.
“i like your suit by the way, you do ballet at all?” he motions to the ballet insinuated design on the foot of the suit.
“oh! yeah, i mean, its a hobby.” they respond, looking at their suit. “what about you? any hobbies?”
mark shakes his head, drumming his fingers on his thighs. “nope, not really, unless you count doing excessive amounts of chemistry homework a hobby.”
they laugh a little, shaking their head. “you're really funny spidey, i understand why people like you.” they lean back on their hands, kicking their feet a little bit.
“thats a generous compliment.” mark smiles under the mask, though he knew they wouldn't see. “how come i've never seen you around before?”
they stiffen for a moment, unsure of what to say. “got my powers recently, i didn't really know what to do with them.”
mark hums, listening to them speak. “i got used to them, but i didn't really show my face to the public. thought it'd be weird to have two spiders in queens.” mark chuckles a bit, fully looking at them now.
“but, i figured you'd probably be happy to have another person like you around.” they nod, concluding their speech.
mark hums, taking in their words. “i guess so. hey, if you want, i can show you the ropes of how things work here.” he laughs at his own joke.
they stare blankly at him for a moment, not saying anything. “uh..i mean i guess?” they chuckle awkwardly. “but i know how to use my powers now so i don't know how you'd help?”
“oh, i mean just like, if you ever fight people, i could show you some moves or.. stuff.” mark spits out awkwardly.
they hum, standing up. “its getting late. its nice meeting you, see you around?” they inquire, slowly walking towards the edge of the building.
mark watches them, as if hypnotized. he shakes his head, before breaking out of his daze. “uh, yeah! yeah totally. see you around.” mark says, watching them leap off the building.
mark climbs through the window, closing it before flopping on the couch in his suit. he rips off his mask, taking deep breaths.
“you okay mark?” donghyuck murmurs, coming out of his bedroom. “theres another..spider person in queens.”
donghyuck furrowed his brows; confused but listening nonetheless. “their name is ghost spider. i'm pretty sure its a girl, but i'm not sure, they have a pretty deep voice.”
“and what does that have to do with you?” donghyuck inquires, leaning on the kitchen island.
“because something is off about them. i-i know you're gonna call my bluff, say i'm being paranoid, but hyuck i swear, there is something off about them.”
donghyuck sighs, “no mark i won't say any of that. if you truly think something is off about them, then i'd say just keep doing what you do. keep investigating, keep digging.”
mark nods, absorbing his best friend's words. “thank you.” he breathes off, before peeling off his suit.
“ew, mark you reek.” donghyuck smirks, as mark pushes him in retaliation. “asshole.” mark mutters as he walks over to his room.
—
a month has passed of you being here. and mark's overall suspicion has faded away, infact it felt like it was never there. you guys became good friends, even working on a few projects here and there.
however, things with ghost spider got confusing. he thought they were friends, she would help him sometimes, whether its against green goblin or doc ock, but when it comes to dr connor? she's fighting against him.
its confusing and it messes with his brain. he thinks they're sort of..frienemies? he doesn't know how to describe it. anyway, back to you.
you and mark hung out frequently, him sleeping over at your place more times than others. although today he insisted on studying for your guy's chemistry test.
when he came over, he looked..good. his hair was a little messy, but it was clean. he had some casual clothes on, baggy at the most.
you were sitting on your bed, flipping through different pages of your chemistry book, jotting down notes, listening to mark speak. things were normal at first, until you started really looking at him.
the way his lips moved when he said certain words, how he picks at his skin when he's nervous, the way he fiddles with his rings. it all fell in place right there. you like him.
this was not good. sure, you really did like him, but you were supposed to kill him, not fall in love with him.
“yn? are you paying attention?” mark is looking at you, his lip slightly jutted out. he looks cute like this, his eyes all big and round. he looks like a puppy, you think.
“oh, uh yeah, just got in my head a bit.” before you knew it, you two were closer on the bed than you were before. your thighs were brushing up against each other, the chemistry book sitting atop of your guy's legs.
your guy's fingers brush as you reach for your pencil. you look at him for a second, noticing his reddened cheeks, before your eyes dart back down to your paper.
a few moments pass and he starts up again. starts explaining everything in the material that you're learning, each subject. you're watching his lips again, how they move, how he wets his lips before speaking.
he turns to you, suddenly the air is thicker. your noses are brushing. marks breathing hitches, as he looks down at your lips. he bites his lip for a second, before looking into your eyes, as if asking if you feel it too.
you bite your lip as marks hand slowly creeps up to your cheek. “can i kiss you?” he breathes out, looking into your eyes. before you knew it, your lips are on eachothers, moving in sync. its awkward, its sweet, but he's testing the waters.
he pulls away, looking at you. he looks like he wants more, and god you want that too. you curl your hand to the back of his neck, bringing him closer. and now you're kissing him again. with more want, more fervor.
he's pushing you on your back, caging you in. mark suddenly pulls away panting, reaching for his shirt, but before he can do anything, you catch his hand.
“hey, hey, mark, slow down. we don't have to go that far.” you breathe out. you look at him, his pupils dilated, his lips slightly swollen and his hair all messed up. “y-yeah, i'll slow down.”
he gently kisses you again. his hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers together. his other hand finds your waist, squeezing it gently.
“mark..” you mumble against his lips, your free hand curling in his hair. he hums in response, before trailing kisses down your neck. he nips at your neck, leaving a small mark.
“are you marking me?” “...maybe?” he smiles against your neck. you let out a laugh, running a hand through his hair.
he looks up at you, running a finger over your lip. “i really like you, yn.” he mutters, looking into your eyes. you felt your breath hitch. you really liked him too. you liked him too much.
you needed to stop, stop liking him. your father wouldn't like the fact you fell in love with his enemy. with his target. “i really like you too, mark.” the words slip out before you can stop them.
the reaction you receive makes your heart melt. mark smiles, before gently kissing you again, as if trying to make you feel his love through his kisses.
“can i take you out?” he inquires, his head resting on your chest, fidgeting with your fingers. “you wanna take me out?”
he raises a brow, looking at you as if you asked if the earth was flat. “..well yeah. i wanna properly date you, yn.” you nod, talking in his words.
“how does this friday work? you can come over around seven, and we can watch a movie.” you think about it for a second, mentally checking through your calendar.
“yeah, friday works. any dresscode?” “nope, just bring yourself.” you nod, watching him lay his head down on your chest.
you were in too deep.
—
mark's in a fight. again. its late, its friday, and he's supposed to have a date tonight. with you. but instead he's fighting someone who he thought was his friend.
“that all you got spidey?” they said, kicking him in the jaw. mark stumbles back, his back hitting the ground with a solid smack.
“get up, come on get up.” they said, grabbing his shoulder and slamming it against the brick wall. mark groans, pulling his mask up for a second, to catch his breath.
mark turns around, expecting to see ghost spider still there. but they weren't. instead they were gone. disappeared like thin air.
mark pulls his mask back down, shooting a web and swinging on his way to his dorm building. mark climbs through the window, almost falling onto his face as he scrambles to his room.
“mark! whats got you in a rush?” donghyuck shouts from his room, noticing mark's obvious and loud movement.
“i've got a date with yn! she's coming over so can you crash at johnny's or something?” mark shouts back, shrugging his suit off.
“mark seriously–” “hyuck please! just for tonight!” mark hears donghyuck sigh, before gathering a few things of his and trailing out the door.
mark dresses himself, a clean hoodie with some jeans. not too casual but not too formal. he sprays on some cologne, a woody scent, not too strong though.
mark pats himself down, fixing his hair, putting rings on, adding finishing touches. he's grabbing his phone when he hears the door ring. you.
he practically sprints to the door, trying to slightly touch himself up and make sure he doesn't have food stuck between his teeth or a hair standing straight up before he opens the door.
he opens the door, his face lighting up at seeing you. “you made it! sorry, food isn't here yet.” he opens the door wider to let you in.
you plop on the couch, taking in your surroundings. “donghyuck isn't here?” you question, watching mark sit down next to you.
“i kicked him out. made him crash at johnny's.” you furrow your brows. “for our date?” mark nods, “well yeah, didn't want to be interrupted. knowing him he'd probably say something stupid to make fun of me.”
chuckling, you keep listening to him. “but hyuck knows i mean well. we've been friends since like–forever–sorry am i rambling?” mark asks suddenly, looking at you.
“yeah, but i like listening to you so it's okay.” mark smiles slightly, before moving onto another topic. something about movies he liked, but nonetheless you listened.
all was well. there was a movie on in the background, food on the coffee table, and plenty of conversations flowing. until all wasn't well.
mark jolted up, his ears ringing once again. “mark?” you call his name, putting a hand on his shoulder. mark tried to ignore the nagging feeling for the sake of the date, for the sake of you.
but no matter how much he tried to ignore it, the ringing wouldn't stop. “i'm sorry, yn, i think you need to go…” he said before he could stop himself. “w-what, why?” you stutter, as he shuffles you towards the door.
before you can say something, you're pushed out the door. you suck in a breath, your ears are ringing as well.
you make sure mark is out of sight before shooting a web to the next building over. you hated having this ‘double life’ with mark. sure you didn't mind it before, but once you figured out your feelings?
you land on your window sill, knocking on your window. “giselle? giselle let me in.” you whisper-yell, trying to get your roommates attention.
giselle perks up at the tapping of glass. she furrows her brows as she lets you in. “why are you here early? aren’t you supposed to be at mark’s?” you hum, dusting yourself off.
“yeah..anyway, you know that plan i told you about? the plan to kill spiderman?” giselle widens her eyes, but nods nonetheless. “uh..yeah? i think so?” she replies, her tone confused.
you sigh, sitting on the couch, burying your hands in your face. “I fell in love with him.” you mutter, barely audible. “what? yn can you speak up?” you huff, running your fingers through your hair. “i fell in love with mark.”
giselle blinks, taken aback. “you..fell in love with your fathers target?” you sigh, nodding nonetheless. “mhm, now i have to fight my potential boyfriend.” “you know this is bad right? like really bad.”
you huff again. “yes, i know. my dad wouldn’t be pleased if he found out about this.” you say, walking to your room, fishing out your suit. shrugging it on, you sigh, looking in your mirror, deeply ashamed of the roles you have to play. you shouldn’t have to fight the person you love, the person you want to be with.
but instead here you are, getting ready to go fight the man you love most. you bid goodbye to giselle, shooting a web outside and swinging out. you race across the the city, trying to find where mark is located.
you swing down when it hits you, your ears start ringing, meaning mark is somewhere near. You whip your head around, only to see him swinging by your side. “you here to fight me or fight with me?” “don’t know yet, lets see who it is.”
then it comes into view, doc ock lifting up cars and throwing them at civilians. “hey!” mark shouts, already shoving a foot in doc’s face. you come in from behind, webbing up his tentacles, wrapping them around his body. “there’s two of you?!” he shouts, looking down at his tentacles wrapped around his waist.
you look at mark, only to find him staring at you already. you quickly avert your eyes, looking down at the villain, who was struggling. “you gonna talk or stay quiet?” you question, raising a brow at doc.
“why are there two of you?” he breathes out, struggling some more. “why do you need to know?” mark replies this time, as he sits atop of a street light. “because theres only supposed to be one spider-man! not two. thats just unfair.”
you look at mark, confused. “is he usually this weird?” mark shrugs, before suddenly whipping his head around. in his field of view, he’s pushed to the ground by dr connors. “wheres my spider?” he growls, grabbing him by his neck and lifting him up into the air.
“yo- what spider?” mark barely squeaks out. “don’t act dumb, lee! you know exactly what i’m talking about!” mark furrows his brows, his confusion prominent even through his mask. you watch as all this happens, a lump in your throat as you fight the war in your head. you’re stuck between saving the man you love, versus following your father’s orders.
in a last attempt to save mark, whom was obviously choking, you web your fathers feet, dragging him away from mark.. mark’s broken free, which he makes the move to get up and catch his breath. “you don’t normally help me with him.” he chokes out, looking at you. You clear your throat, looking away. “just–get him out of here.” you nod at him, about to head off when you feel yourself being lifted off the ground.
“forget about me?” doc ock. you groan, trying to wiggle free. You look around for mark, only to find him also in doc’s hold. you sigh, knowing you’re done for. “let her go.” dr connors growls. doc furrows his brows, looking over at him with a glare. “why? she special to you or something?” smirking, he tightens his grip on you, causing a slight whimper to make its way out of your mouth.
your father’s jaw tightens. huffing, he rips the webs off his feet, jumping down onto the ground. “let her go or i’ll smash your brains out. don’t play with me doc.” he growls, grabbing one of his metal tentacles and slowly, but painfully twisting them. “let her go now.” doc sighs, dropping you to the ground. “You gonna let him go as well?” you nod your head over to mark, which results in you getting a nasty glare from your father.
doc looks at you confused. “why should i let him go? you like him or something?” he grins, tightening his grip even more on mark. you cough, trying to keep your composure. “just let him go.” you breath out, slowly approaching mark. you grab the claws, prying them away from mark. mark drops down to his knees, catching his breath. “thanks.” he mutters, standing up slowly. he looks at you for a second. his mask slightly ridden up, exposing his sharp jaw. definitely mark.
before you can ask if he’s okay, he swings away. off to where? deciding on most definitely was a rash decision, you swing after him. You don’t even need to keep up because you know where he’s going.
landing on top of the empire state building, you sit down next to him. he looks over, and to your surprise, his mask is off. “hey.” he mutters. there he is, beautifully in pain. you clear your throat, scooting closer. “you okay?” you ask. genuinely, not sarcastically.
he sighs, running a hand though his messy hair. “yeah. today just sucks ya’know? was supposed to have a date tonight. but instead i’m fighting doc ock and dr. connors.” you nod. “who’s the lucky girl? or guy, i don’t discriminate.” he breathes out a laugh. “it's a girl. i really like her ya'know? she's beautiful, smart and kind. she even listens to my stupid rants.”
you nod, listening to him talk about you. “how..how do you know dr connors?” he asks, looking at you. you stiffen, trying to find an excuse. “he's an old friend of mine.” mark nods, fidgeting with his mask. Mark purses his lips for a second. “how come you saved me back there? you don’t normally save me when we’re fighting dr. connors.” you sigh, looking at your lap.
“although i was ordered to kill you, i decided i could either let him kill you now, or let him keep playing with you. i chose the latter.” mark leans back, confused. “i’m sorry? you were ordered to kill me?” you laugh at his disbelief. “more like forced but whatever works for you.”
Mark hums. “I’m still confused..you fight me when you’re with dr.connors, but when its another villain, you fight with me. It doesn’t make any sense.” you look at him, just watching him. watching the man you love. “If i told you, i’d give away my identity, then you’d definitely hate me.”
mark furrows his brows, “who says i’d hate you?” you sigh, before slowly standing up. “i’ve said too much. see you around spidey.” you say before swinging away. Mark looks at his lap for a few seconds before putting his mask on, swinging back to his dorm.
mark climbs through the window and flops on the couch. he's about to call for donghyuck when he remembers he isn't here. mark groans, clutching his side. mark looks down at his hand, seeing some blood there.
mark shrugs his suit down, grabbing some bandages that he keeps in the coffee table and wrapping them around his midsection. before he completely passes out, he makes an attempt to take off his suit and slide a shirt on.
as soon as he hits the pillow, he's out like a light.
—
waking up, he’s hit with a pounding headache. he sits up, holding a hand to his head, wincing. “hyuck?” he calls out, finally having the energy to get up and walk around. “hyuck?” he calls out once more, still no reply. mark looks around for his phone, before finally finding it somewhere on his floor.
pressing the call button, he sits back on his bed. much to his disliking, donghyuck doesn’t pick up the phone, which causes mark’s concern to spike up. He presses johnny’s contact, no answer either.
mark grabs some pants, sliding them on before trailing out the door, hoping to find his friends. after a few minutes of walking around the dorms, he finally knocks on johnny’s door. “johnny? hyuck?” he calls out, hoping someone would hear them.
“mark?” a voice calls out. “hyuck? Is that you? oh my god.” mark scurries over to where the voice is, almost tripping over his own feet. “you’re always in a rush, mark.” donghyuck shakes his head, sitting up on the guest bedroom bed. “i have been looking for you! of course i’m in a rush!” mark whisper-yells. “why have you been looking for me?” he yawns, rubbing his eyes.
“cause something happened last night.” mark mutters, straightening himself up. donghyuck raises a brow, standing up now. “what happened? someone die?” “holy shoot…” says a voice from somewhere. johnny.
“johnny-” “i knew it! i knew you were spider-man! but hyuck said i was delusional!” mark sighs, looking over donghyuck. “seriously?” he mouths to which donghyuck smiles sheepishly. “yes johnny, i’m spider-man. happy now?”
“this isn’t as exciting as i thought it would be.” johnny sighs, walking back into the bathroom. “whatever, hyuck, make sure he doesn’t run his mouth. I’ll tell you later.” mark grunts, making his way out the door.
—
“i think yn is ghost spider.” mark mutters, looking over at donghyuck. “what makes you say that?” donghyuck stutters, obviously taken aback. “does this mean you don’t like her anymore? well, if she does end up being ghost spider?” donghyuck asks. “well no, i still very much like her. i just don’t know what i’d do if she does end up being ghost spider.” mark replies, his voice quivering.
“i don’t know what to say mark, other than why do you think she’s ghost spider?” “cause when i fought dr.connors that night, she was working with him. why would she only fight against me when its dr. connors and fight with me when its any other villain?” mark sighs, dropping his head into his hands. “And when i asked ghost spider about how they know dr. connors, they said he was an ‘old friend’ like what kind of response is that?!”
“mark-” “no you need to listen to me. i knew something was off about yn, and you still didn’t listen to me! so what if she ends up being ghost spider? i let a villain into our house, into our lives. this is why i don’t date. i can’t trust anyone nowadays.”
“mark you need to calm down. jumping to conclusions can lead to getting your hopes up. just keep doing your thing. keep investigating, keep an eye open.” mark nods, taking in donghyucks words. “thanks hyuck, you always know what to say.” he says, smiling at his best friend.
—
much to mark’s disappointment, he isn’t able to reschedule your date. so the next time he sees you, its in chemistry. He sits down next to you, words already on the tip of his tongue.
“yn, i’m so sorry i blew off our date, well, more like ended it. it wasn’t because i don’t like you or anything, its just because i randomly felt sick and i didn’t want to—” he suddenly feels a peck on his lips.
he looks up and you’re smiling. “did you just..kiss me?” he mutters, a slight smile on his lips. “yes and now that i’ve got your attention. it’s fine mark. i completely understand. do you wanna go out tonight then?” mark blinks, “wait really?”
“yeah! we can like, go out for pizza or something, whatever you’d like.” mark nods, watching your face. “Is there anything specific you wanna do?” you shake your head. “nah, if you just wanna do what we did last time then thats fine.”
humming, mark takes a leap. he grabs your hand and gently holds it. “thats fine with me.” he whispers, as if he’d ruin the moment if he was too loud.
“we're supposed to be doing chemistry, not having it romantically.” the teacher scolds, catching you completely off guard. “sorry.” you both mumble.
for the majority of the class, you two managed to focus. aside from the fact his hand is still in yours. you kept noticing him looking over at you, his gaze soft and sweet. you smile shyly, gently squeezing his hand.
—
“food should be here soon.” mark leans back on the couch, taking sip of his water. you hum, sitting cross legged next to him.
mark clears his throat, “you look really good.” he mutters, barely audible. “what did you say?” “i said you look really good.”
“you think so?” you say, looking down at yourself.
“of course i do.” his voice is lower, and his stare is practically boring holes into your skull. “when do you not look good?”
“it just sounds like you're trying to butter me up, mark. it's not working.” you cross your arms, a small curve on your lips.
“you sure it's not working?” mark inches closer to you, moving your arms away from your body and instead on his.
you bite your lip, looking at him. “what's your goal here, mark?” you say, tilting your head.
“my goal? there is no goal.” he says, leaning in closer. almost as if to tease you. you click your tongue, leaning in closer.
“prove it.” you say, resting your hands on his knees. “prove what?” furrowing his brows, he intertwines your hands, holding them tightly.
“prove you have no goal.” letting out a laugh, he replies with just enough sass as you. “how am i supposed to do that?”
you sigh, looking around, before finally just blurting it out. “whatever mark, just kiss me.” you say, expecting him to immediately kiss you. but instead you get a very flustered mark.
“kiss you?” his jaw is slack, almost as if he saw a ghost in real time. “yes mark, that's what i've been trying to do this whole time!”
“really?” mark furrows his brows. “oh my god.” you mutter, before crashing your lips on his. mark's eyes widen from the sudden contact, before he finally melts.
he brings his hand up, curling his fingers into your hair as he moves his lips against yours. he pulls away for a second, catching his breath before kissing you hungrily again.
your fingers curl around his hoodie as you get lost in the heat of the moment. mark's teeth bit gently on your lower lip, and the sound you let out was like music to his ears.
you let your hands roam his body, from his muscular arms to his toned abdomen, your brain was racing with thoughts all about mark.
mark starts going lower, his kisses trailing down your neck. you let out a quiet noise, something between a whimper and a moan, but nonetheless it sounded amazing to mark.
mark's hands slid up under your shirt as he trails his kisses back up to you lips. “my god.” mumbling against his lips as your arms wrap around his neck.
you feel his smile on your lips, before he starts speaking. “want you.” he murmurs, gently pulling away and pushing you onto your back.
he skims over you. your swollen lips, your hair splayed across the couch, trembling under his touch. “you look…gorgeous.” he mumbles, gently stroking your lip.
“you think so?” you breathe out. “oh yes.” he responds, leaning down and plunging his teeth into the juncture of your neck.
you claw at his back, letting out another high pitched moan. “mm, keep doing that.” he whispers, the vibrations against your neck making you feel things.
“mark..” you moan out, your hands flying up to his hair as he leaves a mark on your collarbone. “mhm?”
“this is gonna be a long night.” you lean your head back, sliding your hands up his torso. mark nods. “definitely.” he smirks, before leaning down to kiss you again.
—
the next morning, mark came home with the biggest grin on his face. when he walked through the door, he was met with donghyuck and his slack jaw. “dude, you’re like littered with hickey’s” he deadpans, his eyes roaming across mark’s neck and collarbone.
“yeah, we had alot of fun…with eachother.” donghyuck rolls his eyes. “i dont wanna know. i can’t believe you got laid before me.” mark scoffs. “whatever. i ..i think i’m gonna ask her soon.”
donghyuck hums, pouring his morning coffee. “ask her what?” “to be my girlfriend.” donghyuck freezes, some of the coffee he was pouring ending up on the floor and counter. The silence was frightening.
“mark think for a second. remember how petrified you were when a villain found out where we lived?” mark nods slowly, absorbing his words.
“this could put her in danger, mark. and i don’t think you want that. I understand you really like her, but your situation is just too complicated for her.”
mark shrinks into himself, the more he thinks about it, the guiltier he feels. “you’re right. hyuck, you’re really right. i got so caught up in my head that i forgot about the consequences.”
“no, mark you’re missing the point.” mark feels his stomach practically drop as donghyuck continues, “this could really hurt her. are you ever going to tell her about anything?”
“well… yeah… at some point.” mark admits, “i don't know, hyuck.”
donghyuck nudges mark a bit, “don’t do it now. do it soon.” “you're right. i'll do it soon.” mark walks away after that, walking into his room and drowning himself in his thoughts.
—
as mark walked to dr. connors, drained and tired. the things that happened in the last few weeks were so hard for his brain to process.
mark walked into dr. connors, seeing you. His lips curve up slightly, as he slides into the seat next to you. “hey..” he mutters, pulling out his laptop. “you okay?” he hears you speak up, your eyes meeting.
“yeah, just tired. things have been hard lately.” mark sighs.
“i get that, me too.” you lean back into your seat. “you wanna spend some time studying together?”
“sure, i'd like that.” maybe mark will use this time as an opportunity to tell you, he thinks.
as dr. connors continues his lecture, your mind is swarming with thoughts. they were mostly about mark, but also your second identity. you had the same thought as him though, would you tell him about your plan?
The rest of the class he zones out. Until dr connors slips a note to him. Mark furrows his brows as he reads it, and his breathing stops momentarily. “I know you’re spider-man, meet me at my lab tonight”
—
it was taking too long for mark to come. you pace back and forth in your room, slightly anxious over whether or not he'd actually come. your phone begins to ring, and you answer it, thinking it would be mark.
“can you come over here for a second? i need help with some things.” hearing the voice of your fathers instead of mark made your heart drop a little.
“ok, i'll be on my way,” you respond before hanging up, putting your phone down and sliding your suit on
unfortunately for you, you left your door unlocked in hopes mark would show up. and he did. at the worst time possible.
“yn..?” mark stood at your doorframe, a mix of concern, shock, and anger in his face.
“mark?” you gasp, suit almost completely on. “get out of my room.”
“get out? no explain yourself!” you stammer, trying to come up with an excuse other than ‘i'm sorry.’ “you knew i was spider-man this whole time.”
mark looks beyond angry, beyond disappointed. “you knew. you knew what he was doing, didnt you?” you can only stare, the whole plan completely forgotten.
“was it fake?” he clenches his jaw, raising a brow. waiting for you to answer. you stutter, “no! it wasn't fake i swear.” “really? then why'd you suddenly get close to me?”
your face flushes with shame. you look down, unable to meet his gaze. “tell me the truth yn, tell me.” he presses, his tone sharp and meaningful.
your stomach drops so far down you're convinced it left your body. “i can't.” mark scoffs, obviously flabbergasted. “you can't? but you can plot my murder with my enemy.”
“i didn't plot anything.” you mutter, finally looking up at him. “you didn't what? can you speak up?” he shouts, to which you flinch. this isn’t the mark you wanna see.
this isn't mark at all. this isnt the mark you fell in love with. this isn’t the mark you kissed, the mark you hugged, the mark you slept with. “i didn't plot anything! i didn't have a choice mark!”
you say through tears, the words coming out broken and ragged. marks jaw ticks as he looks away. “whatever yn, we'll talk later.”
“mark please…” you plead, reaching out to him. he jerks away, looking at you with an expression that makes your heart shatter. he looks heartbroken, angry, sad, lost. “don't touch me.” mark says coldly, backing up to the other side of the room.
you look down, unable to keep the tears in. they fall down your cheeks like a waterfall, slow and dramatic. mark stiffens. in a normal situation he'd run over to you and hug you in a heartbeat.
but now? he stands there, coldly. his eyes hold no emotion, they lack the usual warmth he normally has. he clears his throat, gathering his things. “i got the message from your father, i'll see you at the lab.” you watch as he walks away.
your entire world stops spinning as he exits from the door, and you stand there speechless for a second before deciding you had to get to your father before he did.
you had never ran (or swung either, for that matter.) faster in your life, and as you're about to swing on one of the other buildings, you bump into spider-man, of course.
“m- spider-man. i'm so sorry.” you say, just loudly enough for him to hear you. you want to hold onto him so bad, but you had no more chances at doing so.
“sorry won't fucking cut it. you know what you did.” he responds coldly, rushing away from you.
you try to keep up with his pace all the way to your fathers lab, where you're semi-out of breath, but more emotional than anything. “mark, listen!” you cry out.
mark ignores you as he swings on top the lab, you follow suit, trying to talk to him. “stop fucking following me.” he growls, pulling his mask down as he slips into the lab. your stomach drops at this, and now you know you really messed up, if you haven’t already.
you clench your jaw at how good he looks right now. you slip in with him, deciding to stay hidden instead of following him.
“look who showed!” says dr connors. “i kind of had to, you did threaten me with my identity.” your eyes widen, that was not what your father told you was in the note. You observe quietly as they talk.
“what’s up big guy? why do you need me here?” mark asks broadly, blissful unaware his doom weighs over his head. “You stole my spider!” dr connors shouts. mark blinks, “spider? That’s what you’re upset about?” your father clenches his jaw, trying to be patient.
“dude, it like, bit me. I can’t exactly get it back.” your father gawks at this, beyond frustrated. “stupid teenager. you wasted my time.” he growls, marching towards mark.
“woah, woah, big guy. lets talk for a second. what do you need that specific spider for?” mark reasons, backing up towards a lab table as the life-sized green lizard draws closer.
he lunges at mark, his fist colliding with mark's gut before he jumps away. mark's breath leaves his lungs as he's thrusted into the wall. “lets talk about this okay? we don’t have to hurt anyone, especially not your daughter.” mark breathes out.
dr connors freezes. his eyes narrow, his gaze suddenly getting a knowing glint in them. “how do you know she’s here tonight?” your stomach drops as mark looks over at you, raising an eyebrow at you. how did he know where you were? you sigh, hopping down from your spot.
noth of the men watch you as you walk over. mark’s gaze is steady, but you can tell he’s obviously still hurt, your heart aches. you desperately want to tell him the truth, let everything spill out.
but you don’t. you stand next to mark, looking up at your father. “he’s right dad, lets not jump to fighting. lets talk, like adults.” as you side with mark, your fathers gaze becomes bitter. “you’re siding with him? after everything we discussed?” you scoff, not even believing the person your father has become over stupid spider.
“what have we discussed? You didn’t let me speak, you didn’t let me choose anything!” you argue, your voice raising with every word you speak. “You chose to go after an innocent boy, someone who did nothing to you, and you decide to plot his murder!”
mark stands there, watching as you fight your father. “i listened to every word you said about him, how he’s evil, how he’s a thief, and how he’s the worst student you’ve ever had. but have you ever taken the chance to know him personally?”
mark is beyond belief right now, watching as you defend him, and yourself in front of your father. “yn, leave us.” your father mutters, pointing towards the exit. You shake your head, still standing next to mark.
“why aren’t you leaving?” mark mutters to you. you grab his hand, holding it tightly. “after everything that went down tonight? I’m not leaving until i can prove myself to you.”
seconds go by without a response from mark who is just standing there. every second that goes by, your heart speeds up a little. say something you think. mark squeezes your hand, and you can tell he believes you. “okay.” he whispers to you.
looking back at the perpatrator, mark lets go of your hand. you frown at the loss of contact but ultimately you go back to reality.
mark lunges at dr connors, his foot colliding with his face. the two fight messily, the sound of skin hitting skin fills your ears. dr connors comes barreling towards mark, claws out. mark webs his hand to the ground.
this angers him, as he jumps toward mark, holding mark up by his neck. dr connors snarls, watching mark.
"you wasted my time, lee! you could've just told me it bit you." his hands contract around marks throat.
mark thrashes in his hold, gasping for air. "you…" mark trails off, catching his breath after the intense fighting. "you never let me speak, you just assumed i was a coward and couldn't admit fault."
obviously, he doesn't like this answer because he tightens his grip even more. you watch as all this happens, you're frozen in fear. unable to say or do anything for this situation.
you watch as marks eyes slowly close, his conciousness slipping away. dr connors lets him go, walking away. mark's still body drops to the ground. "yn, come on. we're done here."
you run over to mark, cradling his unconscious body. “i'm not doing shit till you realize how immature you are.” you keep your back towards your father, not daring to look at him.
you slide mark's mask off. his lip is busted, and theres blood dripping on his forehead. you look at him, your poor boy, laying there unconscious. holding in all this poor baggage.
you move some hair out of his face, stroking his cheek. you peck his forehead before reluctantly turning to your father.
“i love him. and if you want to kill him, you'll have to kill me first.” your fathers face visibly hardens, claws tightening around the desk. “you dare to challenge me?”
mark blinks awake, rubbing his eyes. he looks up and sees you guarding him. like a human wall, not backing down. mark stays silent, watching as you fight your father.
“yes i do. come on, hit me, scratch me. but don’t you dare touch him.” your voice tenses, as you get into a fighting stance. your feet plastered on the ground.
your father looks away, clenching the desk. he walks away, walking around the lab. then suddenly a glass breaks and smoke breaks through the air. you're coughing, covering your mouth and nose.
fire spreads fast, and before you know it, there's a boom ringing in your ears. you hit the ground with a thud, your vision going.
—
you didn't know how long you were out for, but the minute you regain consciousness, you try your best to make your way to mark.
you limp over, tripping over ceilings that have caved in. you're wary of the radioactive chemicals spilt on the ground. but your main focus is mark.
you run to him when you see him. seeing his dust covered face, you grab his mask and his unconscious body. swinging atop of a random building, you hold him in your arms.
“mark? mark please.” you plead, holding his face in your hands. “please wake up,i can't lose you.” you cry, gently stroking his face.
you contemplate doing cpr, but then again, you never paid attention in health class. oops. you sit there, holding his face.
you look away, your hand tightening around his. staring at the lab which you once called your favorite place, is now caved in. you think about your father, why he did what he did.
“yn?” you whip your head around, looking at mark, who's coughing up some blood. “mark, oh my god.” you help him sit up as he coughs it out. you thread your fingers through his hair, just letting him know you're there.
“why?” he mutters, looking into your eyes. “why what?” you furrow your brows, looking back at him. “why'd you lie? about everything?”
mark can physically see your face drop. “i did it because i had to.” mark stares blanky at you, waiting for you to elaborate. “i didn't have a choice. my dad forced me to help him kill you. i didn't really care about his whole plan, but what else could i have done?"
you pull your mask down, throwing it somewhere on the building. your breath is shaky as you speak, "he made me get close to you, manipulate you and somehow lead you to the lab for your murder. but along the way.. i fell for you. and i know that's ironic but it's true."
"i really wanted to tell you, about everything, about my feelings, my identity, the plan. but i couldn't." mark watches as tears stream down your face. his heart shatters and on instinct, his hand reaches for yours.
"i didn't lie when i said i liked you, or when i said i wanted to be with you. i really do love you mark." you look up at him, your eyes glassy with tears. "i don't know how else to make you believe me, but tell me and i'll do in a heartbeat."
mark shakes his head as he wraps his arms around you. "i believe you. i really do so please don't try to prove yourself." mark mutters into your hair, his hand moving up and down your back. "i guess i was just in so much shock that i didn't think about your feelings either."
"i'm sorry, i'm sorry for not telling you." you sob into his chest. mark cups your face, wiping your tears with his thumb. "hey, its fine. i forgive you." mark smiles, gently pecking your forehead, before resting his chin on your head.
"he's dead." you mutter, toying with his fingers. mark's fingers still in your hair. "who? your father?" mark mumbles. "yeah. you were still unconscious but he blew up the building with some sort of flammable gas."
"i saw you fighting him." mark deadpans. he takes in a deep breath, "you were so amazing, standing up to him like that. i wanted to get up and fight him with you but i didn't. because that was between you and him."
"i saw how he couldn't fight you, how he restrained himself." mark pauses, choosing his words carefully, "he might've been my enemy, but he was your father. he put you first over anything."
"you were awake that whole time." you blank, your fingers stilling in his. "yeah. i was. and i'm glad i got to see you stand up for yourself." mark smiles down at you, intertwining his fingers with yours.
nothing happens for a few moments as both of you are taking in everything that has happened. mark's steady breathing his soft against your back. you bask in his touch, his presence grounding you.
"what happens now?" mark mutters, looking down at you. you pause, thoughts running through your brain. "what do you mean?" you rotate your body, facing him. mark looks down at his lap, chewing at his lips.
"what i mean is..what does this mean for us? do you want to be with me? or did i ruin it." mark looks away, his eyes suddenly getting glassy. you grab his chin, trying to catch his eyes.
"mark look at me." your voice is calm, collected. when mark finally looks at you, the rim of his eyes are filled with tears. "i want to be with you."
"promise?" he questions. "promise, seriously? mark what are we in fifth grade?" mark lets out a shaky laugh, his hand tightening around yours."just..promise me. it makes me feel secure, like i have control."
you nod, "i promise." you stay, looking into his eyes. marks tears finally break through, streaming down his face. "i love you so much." he sobs as he pulls you into his chest.
you still for a moment, letting him sob into your arms. mustering up the courage to repeat it back, you comb your hands through his hair, "i love you too, so so much."
—
as you walk through the door to marks dorm, you're met with donghyuck, flipping the lights on. "mark you look like shit." mark sags in your hold as he looks at his best friend,
"thanks man, i literally almost died in an explosion." donghyuck furrows his brows, looking between the two of you. "you saved him, didn't you?" hyuck presses, looking at you dead in the eyes.
you nod, holding mark up. you open your mouth, about to explain yourself when donghyuck speaks for you. “you put mark through alot, you know?”
mark winces, waving donghyuck off. “lay off hyuck, she has her reasons.” mark looks at you, nodding towards the couch.
you gently set him down, helping him out of his suit and into a spare change of clothes.
“i can sense you, donghyuck. what do you need to say?” you speak without looking at him. your eyes trained on mark.
“don't fuck this up.” he deadpans, his stare holding. “mark already struggles enough to keep up the spiderman act, he doesn't need to keep yours up as well.”
“i'm fully capable of managing myself, so don't you worry.” you turn to him, a tight smile on your lips.
donghyuck nods, walking to his room. “don't be too loud, lovebirds.” mark's face flushes red as he buries his head in your shoulder.
mark sucks in a breath, looking up at you. “no matter what anyone else thinks, no matter what villains we encounter, i want you by my side.”
you smile at him, your hands curling around his. “then lets do it. from now on, we're together. label or not.”
—
POST LAB ACCIDENT.
you're sitting atop of the empire state building again. this time with mark. you two are just talking like normal.
friend problems, missing assignments, the usual. then mark gets an idea. his hand slowly creeps toward your back.
you whip your head around just as he's about to push you off the building. “you wouldn't.” you mutter, looking up at him.
mark gets this glint in his eyes. the one that sparks up when he's about to do something stupid. “mark..” you lean back, watching as he stands up.
mark slips his mask on, “come catch me!” mark yells as he jumps off the building. you sigh, watching his body disappear over the ledge.
you wait a few seconds, spinning a web to play with. “are you seriously not gonna entertain me?” he whines, burying his head in your shoulder.
“nope.” you mumble, leaning your head on his. “whatever.” he grumbles, his arms tightening around you.
“love you.” he mumbles into your neck, his arms wrapped around your midsection.
