Chapter 5
Gwen sprinted through the darkening streets, heart pounding in her ears louder than her footsteps. Her backpack bounced against her side, ballet flats scuffing the concrete. She skidded to a stop outside the cafe, her reflection in the glass door showing tousled hair, flushed cheeks, and guilt written all over her face.
Miles sat inside already, his hoodie sleeves pushed up and his untouched milkshake sweating on the table. He looked up as she rushed in, his eyes softening instantly—but not completely.
“I’m so sorry,” Gwen gasped as she slid into the seat across from him. “There was traffic and my phone died and—”
“It’s okay,” Miles cut in gently, but his smile was tight. “I figured something came up.”
Gwen bit her lip, playing with the edge of the paper napkin. She hated lying to him, hated the growing space between them. But what could she say? "Sorry I was late, I was testing how many flips I could do off a fire escape before vomiting"?
“So…” Miles said, sipping from his straw, “how’s everything been? You’ve been… kinda MIA lately.”
“Yeah, school and the Oscorp stuff’s been nuts,” Gwen replied, her words a little too quick. “And ballet rehearsals. My feet are begging for retirement.”
Miles chuckled lightly but didn’t press. They chatted for a few more minutes, Gwen forcing herself to act normal even though every vibration of her phone made her stomach twist. Finally, it buzzed again—and this time, she peeked.
Amaya: Gwen. Trouble downtown. Like, now.
Gwen's breath hitched. “I… I have to go.”
“What?” Miles blinked. “Gwen, you just got here.”
“I know, I’m sorry, but it’s Amaya. She needs me. It’s a thing—girl thing, you know?” she added awkwardly, already standing up.
He looked confused, but didn’t stop her. “Can’t it wait?”
She shook her head, guilt rising up her throat like bile. “No. I’m really sorry.”
Miles nodded slowly. “Okay. Text me later, yeah?”
Gwen hesitated, then leaned over to kiss his cheek. “I will. I promise.”
And just like that, she ran again—into the alley, into her suit, and into the night.
The streets of Brooklyn were chaos.
Gwen—now Spider-Woman, or Spider-Gwen as Amaya kept teasing—landed on the side of a building, crouched low as she scanned the smoke-covered scene below. A fire escape groaned beneath her feet. A massive mechanical creature—some Oscorp Frankenstein of tech and steel—was rampaging through downtown, its legs smashing cars like toys. People screamed and scattered.
Gwen’s stomach twisted. This wasn’t like stopping a mugging. This was real.
Before she could leap into action, a familiar red blur swung through the smoke and landed hard just ahead of her.
Spider-Man.
He didn’t speak. Didn’t turn around. Just shot a web and launched himself toward the monster.
Gwen blinked, then followed.
They moved together like magnets drawn to the same target—silent coordination. Spider-Man distracted the bot from the front while Gwen zipped behind, webbing one of its legs. It shrieked with static and whirled around, giving her a clear shot at the power core glowing at its back.
She shot a web-line and yanked herself forward with too much force. “Whoa—!” she yelped, crashing hard into the core and sending a shockwave through the bot. Sparks exploded. It flailed wildly, throwing her off.
Spider-Man caught her midair.
“You good?” he shouted, one arm slinging her onto a rooftop.
“Y-Yeah! Thanks!”
“No problem. Maybe ease up on the momentum next time.”
She flushed under the mask. “Noted.”
They jumped back in. Gwen darted between legs, using her agility to outpace the bot while Spider-Man worked his webs with terrifying precision. He was faster, more confident—years ahead of her in experience. But she held her own. When one of the bot’s arms slammed toward him, Gwen shot a web to yank it off course just in time.
“Nice save,” he said, and she swore he sounded almost… impressed?
The bot finally stumbled, its legs buckling as Gwen and Spidey launched one final double kick to its core. It fell with a metallic groan, sparks flying, wires snapping.
Sirens wailed in the distance.
Gwen breathed hard, adrenaline surging. Her hands trembled slightly as she straightened, mask damp with sweat. She turned toward Spider-Man.
He was already staring at her, arms crossed.
“You shouldn’t be out here.”
Her heart dropped. “Excuse me?”
“That thing could’ve killed you. You barely had control of your landing, let alone your hits. You webbed a civilian’s car back there—twice.”
“I—I was trying to help—”
“You almost got flattened. This isn’t a game.”
Gwen’s throat tightened, the thrill of victory crashing into a wall of disappointment.
He sighed. “Look… sorry. I’m not trying to be a jerk. I’ve just had a rough day, alright?”
She blinked, taken aback.
“I can tell you’re new. You’ve got raw instincts, but no training.” He extended a hand. “If you’re serious about this, I can help. Teach you.”
Gwen stared at his gloved hand.
Maybe this wasn’t the worst day after all.
Monday morning rolled in with all the warmth of a cold front.
Gwen stood outside the physics classroom, backpack slung over one shoulder, hair still damp from a rushed shower. Her legs felt like jelly—either from swinging around Brooklyn the night before or from the pit that had settled in her stomach ever since.
She spotted Miles before he noticed her. He was leaning against the wall just beside the classroom door, arms crossed, eyes scanning his phone with that tight-lipped expression he wore when he was trying not to feel too much.
Gwen forced herself to walk forward.
“Hey,” she offered, voice low.
Miles looked up. “Hey.”
A beat passed.
The usual warmth between them was missing. No casual nudge. No smile. Just silence, stretched and awkward.
“I’m really sorry about—”
“You don’t have to explain.” His voice wasn’t angry. Just… tired.
“No, I do,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean to bail on you like that. It wasn’t planned. Something came up and I—”
“You left in the middle of our date.”
The words weren’t harsh, but they hit anyway. Gwen shrank slightly, guilt twisting in her chest.
“I know,” she whispered. “I didn’t want to. I really didn’t.”
Miles stared at her for a moment, his eyes searching hers. Whatever he found there made his shoulders loosen just a bit.
“I just… I miss when things were simple with you,” he said.
Gwen’s heart cracked at that. “Me too.”
They stood like that, just two feet apart but feeling miles away. The bell rang, but neither of them moved.
Miles finally stepped aside, holding the door open for her. “Let’s just get through class, alright?”
She nodded and slipped inside.
As the lecture started, Gwen barely heard a word. Her mind was spinning, fingers tapping nervously against her notebook. Every fiber of her wanted to tell him everything—about the mask, the webs, the botched date because of a rogue Oscorp mech.
But she couldn’t.
Not yet.
Not when he looked so disappointed. Not when she wasn’t even sure if she could do this superhero thing. Not when she remembered the way he said he worked better alone.
He doesn’t want a partner, she thought. He’d hate knowing I’m her.
Later that night, her phone buzzed. A text from Miles lit up the screen:
“Hey. I’m sorry if I was weird today. I’m just confused. Are you mad at me or something? Is this payback for me not telling you sooner about… you know?”
Gwen stared at the message, tears prickling behind her eyes.
He didn’t know he was talking to the person behind the mask.
And it broke her.
She closed the phone, placed it face-down on her nightstand, and lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling.
Her world was splitting in two—and she didn’t know how much longer she could keep them both from crashing together.