Chapter 7
The city below pulsed with noise and neon, alive even after dark. Cars crawled through the streets like blood through veins, and the soft glow of apartment windows painted the skyline gold. But up here—on the edge of one of the tallest buildings in New York—it was quiet.
Ghost-Spider crouched on the ledge, her hood pulled low over her brow. The chill bit through her suit as she scanned the rooftops, a strange pull in her gut leading her upward, like instinct. That’s when she saw him—Spider-Man—already perched at the very top of the spire, hanging upside down by a webline from the antenna, his arms folded, his mask turned toward the skyline.
She didn’t say anything at first.
Instead, she just climbed up slowly and sat down a few feet away from him, her legs dangling over the edge. The wind pulled at her hood and the tips of her fingers tingled with energy. For once, she didn’t feel like she had to fill the silence.
After a few minutes, she finally spoke, her voice quiet beneath the wind.
“I don’t want to mess up anymore.”
Spider-Man didn’t respond at first. His mask didn’t turn. But she knew he heard her.
“I want to be good at this,” she said, her voice firmer now. “I want people to be glad when they see me. Not scared. Not confused.”
Still hanging upside down, he gave a soft sigh. “You’re talking like someone who’s already failed.”
Gwen flinched. “Maybe I did.”
He flipped down gracefully and landed beside her, crouching instead of sitting. “You didn’t. You’re just… new.”
Gwen turned to look at him. “So you’ll help me?”
“I already have,” he said with a shrug. “You just didn’t know I was watching.”
Her heart skipped. “You’ve been following me?”
“Checking in,” he clarified. “Making sure you didn’t get yourself killed. And… you’ve got potential. But power without control? That’s how people get hurt.”
Gwen winced. Her thoughts went back to the mugger she’d accidentally knocked out cold, and the bruises she hadn’t meant to leave.
“I don’t want to hurt people,” she whispered. “I want to protect them. Like you.”
Spider-Man stood up, stretching his arms. “Then you’ve already passed step one.”
“What’s step two?” she asked cautiously.
He extended a hand to her. “Training.”
Gwen looked at it, hesitated, and then took it.
They leapt off the edge of the building together, two figures in the moonlight, swinging side by side into the breathless rush of the wind.
For the first time in a while, Gwen didn’t feel like she was falling—she felt like she was flying.
“So first thing,” Spider-Man said, swinging ahead and landing gracefully on a water tower, “stop aiming for perfection. You’ll break yourself chasing it.”
Gwen landed beside him a little clumsily, her ankle wobbling on the curved metal surface. “Cool, cool,” she said, catching herself. “Is that why you face-plant into alleyways sometimes?”
He laughed. “Only when I’m showing off.”
Their shadows danced over the rooftops as they leapt from building to building. Spider-Man guided her through drills—web-swinging at different speeds, mid-air flips, and using her webbing to create traps. Gwen soaked it in. Every correction he gave came without judgment, just a quiet confidence that she could do better. It felt… right.
And for the first time since the bite, she felt like she wasn’t just surviving the powers. She was using them.
She could feel herself getting stronger, more precise. Her balance had improved. Her landings weren’t as loud. Her web-slinging was starting to feel like second nature. And when they dropped into a shadowed alley to test stealth moves, she didn’t even knock over a single trash can.
“You’re getting scary good at this,” he said with a grin in his voice.
Gwen flexed her fingers. “So, what’s next? Laser eyes? Invisibility? Giant spider legs that shoot from my spine?”
He laughed. “No spider legs, I promise. But if you want to survive out here, you need more than just webs. You need instincts. You need backup plans. You need to—”
“Be unpredictable,” she finished, echoing something he’d said earlier. “Right?”
He gave her a nod. “Exactly.”
They spent the next hour sparring on a rooftop—the kind of one with low cover, perfect for dodging and springing. Gwen wasn’t sure if Spider-Man was holding back (he definitely was), but her moves were getting sharper. Tighter. Cleaner. She was panting but smiling.
And then he checked his watch.
“Alright, rookie,” he said, stretching. “Last challenge.”
“Oh no,” she groaned. “What now? Rooftop parkour? Mid-air Sudoku?”
He pointed. “Snack run.”
“What?”
“Every hero needs a break,” he said seriously. “You’re going to go to a deli—one very specific deli—and get me a sandwich.”
“Really?” Gwen tilted her head. “That’s the final test?”
He smirked. “Only if you pick the right one."
She narrowed her eyes. “Challenge accepted.”
And she vanished into the night.
It only took her fifteen minutes. She returned with two sandwiches, both perfectly wrapped and still warm.
Spider-Man blinked in disbelief when she handed it to him. “How did you know this was my spot?”
She just grinned and unwrapped hers. “You always smell like mustard and pastrami after patrol. I’m not a genius, but I’m observant.”
He laughed—really laughed, head tilted back, surprised and delighted. “You’re something else, Ghost-Spider.”
They sat on the edge of the roof, eating in peace as the city glowed around them. The world felt still. Easy.
And for Gwen, that moment meant everything.
Gwen had three alarms set. All of them failed.
When she finally burst through the door to AP Physics, her hair a mess and eyes half-shadowed from lack of sleep, the classroom had already fallen quiet. Mr. Halpern didn’t say anything right away, just gave her a look over the rim of his glasses that made her stomach twist.
“Take your seat, Miss Stacy,” he said evenly.
She nodded and slid into her desk, trying not to make eye contact with anyone—especially not Miles. She could feel him glance at her. She didn’t look back.
When the bell rang and everyone filed out, Gwen tried to follow the herd.
“Miss Stacy, a word?” Mr. Halpern called from behind.
She stopped.
The classroom felt painfully empty now. She stood near the front desk, clutching her notebook to her chest. Mr. Halpern looked at her with concern—not anger, which made it worse.
“I noticed a drop in your latest exam scores,” he began, voice calm but firm. “This isn’t like you.”
Gwen tried to come up with a lie. Something that didn’t sound like “I’ve been fighting crime every night and training with a superhero, also I haven’t slept properly in a week.”
“I’ve just… been tired,” she offered.
He tilted his head. “I can see that. Everyone can. Your teachers. Your classmates. Even your dad called, asking if everything was okay.”
That hit her harder than expected. She’d been avoiding her dad too—not because she wanted to, but because there just wasn’t time anymore. She was either flying across rooftops or collapsing into bed.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“I’m not here to punish you,” Halpern said. “But I’m worried. You’re burning yourself out, and if something’s going on—”
“I’m fine,” she blurted, too quickly. “Really.”
He didn’t push. Just gave her a look that felt like a quiet, disappointed hug.
“If you ever need time. Or help. Ask for it, Gwen. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”
She nodded numbly and walked out of the classroom with her pulse in her ears.
She didn’t go straight back to the dorms. Instead, she wandered through the city on autopilot, eventually finding herself at Vision Academy’s art building—specifically, the music wing.
The studio was dark when she slipped inside. Miles’s personal workspace. Her chest ached just standing there.
It smelled faintly of paint and old wood. She didn’t turn the lights on.
She just sat.
And cried.
It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t dramatic. Just slow, soft sobs that broke out of her like steam from a cracked pipe.
She curled her knees to her chest and buried her face. She was trying so hard. So hard to be everything. To everyone. And somehow, she felt like she was still failing.
Her shoulders shook.
No mask. No suit. Just Gwen.
Falling apart in the dark.