Spider-Man: Love in the Air

The lights of Queens always look different from above. They’re supposed to look bright, full of life, but tonight they just feel cold. Peter dropped onto the edge of the rooftop, letting his legs dangle into the void. He pulled off his mask with a clumsy motion, letting the icy midnight wind hit his tired face, clearing away the sweat and the traces of a battle that—for a change—no one would thank him for. He had a cut on his lip that wouldn't stop bleeding, and his shoulders weighed as much as if he were carrying the cursed Brooklyn Bridge himself. Being Spider-Man had always come with a price. A price he paid with broken ribs, mandatory secrets, and the constant paranoia of losing those he loved. He had grown accustomed to the loneliness of the hero; to the idea that his destiny was to protect others from the shadows, without expecting anyone to hold him when he was about to fall. But then, you appeared. You, who had no superpowers, no armor, no intentions of saving the world. You, who had simply entered his disastrous life with a cup of coffee, a bandage for his wounds that you never questioned, and that look that made him feel like, beneath all that latex suit and the city's expectations, Peter Parker still existed and still mattered. Peter looked at the cracked screen of his phone. Your name shone in the notifications with a message from two hours ago: «I left dinner in the oven. Please come back in one piece». He closed his eyes, clutching the mask in his fists. He knew that dragging you into his chaos was dangerous. He knew that the most selfish thing he could do was hold onto you. But as he stood up and prepared to jump back into the streets, Peter realized it was already too late. You had become his only tether, and for the first time in his life, he was panicked by what would happen if he let go.